


Dig Down and Find Faith

by StarDrifter759



Series: That Drowns a Man [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Ascending Storm, Character Study, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Getting to Know Each Other, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Labyrinth of Evil, Operation Knightfall, Order 66, Other Star Wars Books, Past Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Rare Pairings, Rare Relationships, References to Star Wars: Legends, Revenge of the Sith, Rogue Planet, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Star Wars Rare Pair, Tatooine Slave Culture, Timeline What Timeline, What-If, no beta we die like men, past trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:27:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23520802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarDrifter759/pseuds/StarDrifter759
Summary: Mourning the loss of Ashoka - who has cut everybody she once knew out of her new life - Riyo decides that she and Anakin should help each other manage the loss.This work was inspired by the scene inThe Clone Warsanimated series S1E22: Hostage Crisis where Riyo - not Padme - sits on the floor so that an unconscious Anakin can rest on her lap instead of the floor. Basically that just spawned a "what if" in my brain that spewed out this.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Riyo Chuchi/Anakin Skywalker
Series: That Drowns a Man [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1736383
Comments: 66
Kudos: 91





	1. Bleeding Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin muses on his life while probably dying.
> 
> This is really more of a short prologue than a chapter. Nonetheless, enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **FAIR USE NOTICE:** This story contains copyrighted material the use of which has not been specifically authorized by the copyright owner(s). Such materials are being used in a transformative purpose to explore character development in written works. Author believes this constitutes a fair use of any such copyrighted material as provided for in section 107 of the US Copyright Law. In accordance with Title 17 U.S.C. Section 107, the material on this page is distributed without profit for research and educational purposes. For more information go to: https://www.copyright.gov/title17/92chap1.html#10 .
> 
> * * *
> 
> There will be references to several books throughout this story (mostly _Legends_ ). I will try to notate the significant ones.  
> 
> 
> * * *
> 
> Hope someone reads and enjoys this unusual pairing.

"No grave can hold my body down  
I'll crawl home to her"

* * *

**19 BBY – Orbit, Coruscant**

The mind defends itself in interesting ways under extreme duress – or blood-loss as luck would have it - hallucination, displacement, and retreat.

To name a few.

Lying on the floor of the bridge in his Sekotan ship, mangled flesh arm sunk deep into a console of his living craft, Anakin’s mind wandered listlessly – not unlike Zonoma Sekot itself, actually, despite the _Aurora_ ’s best attempts to ground him. He saw his mother’s kind, worn features, Obi-wan’s infamous Negotiator smile, Ahsoka with all her inherent vim and vigor; remembered random snippets from his life, remembered Riyo.

Here his mind chose to dwell. The meandering of his thoughts still lacked true purpose, but they had a newfound cohesion.

As a rule, Anakin didn’t surprise easy, not anymore, but her? He’d never seen her coming. Falling in love with Riyo had been like not even realizing you’re asleep until something rouses you. Even in hindsight he couldn’t say exactly when it had happened, only that the realization had come upon him like a sandstorm, sudden and consuming.

Inexorable.

Nothing like what he’d felt with Padmé. They had burned bright and hot, and then very quickly burned out.

He hadn’t known what to think about Riyo at first; she seemed nice, sincere for a politician, but still off-putting somehow. Made something niggle in the back of his brain, a comparison that seemed just out of reach. Like a word on the tip of your tongue that just won’t come. She was at once familiar and foreign, especially after he’d come-to across her lap, with cool fingers stroking his temple. While his sense didn’t indicate anything bad about her, the uncanny feeling persisted, and made him wary.

It took an embarrassing amount of time for it all to come to him. It wasn’t the Pantoran women herself that was familiar, but her quiet strength. Riyo Chuchi swathed a spine of durasteel alloy in unassuming calm, steadfastness, and uncommon kindness.

Like his mother.

That was the comparison that had itched at his brain and taken so long to realize. Shmi too had been a steady, grounding presence in the face of his tempest. Kind, quite, calm, and the strongest person he’d ever met.

Stars how he loved her.

How he missed her.

_‘Think of your mother, you must not. In the present, your mind must be.’_

_'I know you miss your mother Anakin, but you must train yourself to let go. Longing speaks to attachment, which is forbidden to Jedi.’_

_'Schutta, maybe I should sell your services, huh? Get some credits out of you that way.’_

_No._

The nauseating smell of slime mixed with the sharp odor of unwashed bodies, and salt of the desert (because water was too precious to waste on tears) rushed back to him as though he was still quartered in Gardulla’s wing of Jabba’s palace. So too did sounds of violent copulation, echoing down to the bare room they shared through the stone halls. Gardulla had never had Shmi used that way. On Tatooine, Twi’leks were by far the most popular choice for all manner of “entertainment.” Instead his mother had worked in the kitchen, and cleaned alongside droids during the few quiet hours. But he knew, even when he was too young to understand, that those sounds were bad. Knew that they incited fear in his mother, who would gather her son to her chest and cradle him against her, trembling hand pressed against his exposed ear to muffle the sounds, head bowed low over his as she’d sing the legend of the two Great Kryats who became the twin suns, in a wavering voice.

 _No_.

He shoved the memory away.

Watto was a drunk with a knack for unintended cruelty, but he didn’t have much of a stomach for violence outside podraces – where he would enter Anakin just to bet against him.

Watto was weak. Anakin hated him almost as much as he hated the Hutts.

The Toydarian may have sold Shmi after Anakin left. He had no real use for her. She didn’t have Anakin’s talent for machines. She’d just be a drain on Watto’s already imperiled resources without Anakin there to make up the difference. But young Ani hadn’t realized yet that Watto lacked follow through on his threats. He’d worked hard and stroked his anger to greater and greater heights to protect his mother.

 _Why am I thinking about Watto?_ He asked himself. _Riyo, go back to Riyo_.

One of his mother’s rare, genuine smiles flashed behind his eyes, her soft voice teaching him. Anakin had never stopped feeling guilty for leaving her. Had never stopped punishing himself for paying lip service to the Jedi code and not going back for her. He’d promised.

_'Now, be brave, and don’t look back.’_

Retrospectively, he knew that the similarities between Shmi and Riyo were at least partially responsible for why he’d come to trust Riyo with the deepest parts of himself. The ones he’d never disclosed to anyone, and even tended to keep hidden from himself with a heavy blanket of denial.

A series of beeps and chirps jolted him back to the here and now. R2 and Aurora were worried. He needed safe harbor and immediate medical attention, he knew. If he died, so too would his ship. The symbiotic relationship between ship and pilot was such that not she would not survive his loss.

There can only be one pilot.

She was much too magnificent to be allowed to just waste away like that.

But being the independent thinker that she was, Aurora was capable of flying herself; she just needed a heading.

Which Anakin was in no shape to give.

But he sensed, through their telepathic bond, that she was aware of this, and was currently in cahoots with his astromech.

Should that bother him? Maybe he should be flattered. They were both clearly worried about him.

‘ _Don’t look back.’_ His mother said.

He couldn’t think. His thoughts were drifting from him; spiraling like eddies in a current.

Aurora seemed to be triaging him. How did she even know how to do that? His 2-1B had been destroyed with the _Twilight_. And secrecy with Aurora had been necessary enough that he hadn’t had justification to procure a new one. The Republic would have provided a droid like that, but it also would have been registered alongside his ship, and he’d had no interest in his Sekotan craft being legally registered.

Connected as they were, the ship knew of his confusion. She projected thoughts back at him. A friend he had taught her to recognize, who visited sometimes, had uploaded the data bank of a GH-7 meddroid, so Aurora would be able to help if he was injured. The friend hadn’t left the droid, and for all her advancements Aurora wasn’t capable of performing advanced diagnostics and surgery, but she knew how to help stabilize him, her inventory showed the infirmary had supplies, and R2 had arms, he could help.

R2, hooked into his socket to communicate with the ship, shrieked a decisive disagreement.

A coded communiqué chirped from his comm.

Things grounded in reality were again distant to Anakin. His mind had drawn back into thoughts of Riyo. She was the friend Aurora had referenced.

The grievously wounded Knight didn’t notice R2 hacking his comm, didn’t notice that ship and droid had decided on a destination, didn’t notice the stars streaking by as the _Aurora_ showed her prowess and unmatched hyperdrive technology.

He _did_ feel when R2 suctioned his cable to Anakin’s mech arm and began to drag him from the bridge (at least the astromech had waited for the ship to release his flesh arm first). Pain lanced through his body as broken bones ground together, the movement similarly aggravating blaster burns, as blood pumped anew from freshly torn wounds. He felt swelling in his abdomen - internal bleeding.

Anakin didn’t know where Aurora was taking them, but he honestly wasn’t sure if he’d make it. To even have a chance he’d need to enter a healing trance. He centered himself, drawing peace from thoughts of Riyo. The feel of cool blue skin against him, soft cloud of lilac hair tangled in his fingers, lyrical voice in ears.

He still didn’t know when exactly it was that he came to love her, but he knew where it started. Standing in her senate office, the raw, jagged edges of his freshly severed bond with Ahsoka still throbbing.

Anakin sank further from awareness of the tangible, his metabolic processes slowing with the onset of his trance. The Force cradled its son. Rent from massive loss of life, yet still somehow more balanced than he could recall since he was a boy on Tatooine.

 _Just think about Riyo_.

His mind slipped away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Background Info:** In this verse, Shmi was never kidnapped by Tuskan Raiders, as such Anakin did _not_ have visions of his mother dying. He and Padme spent more time being awkward and less time bonding over highly emotional stressors (they did go after Obi-wan but arrived later and didn't have a "truly, deeply, love you" moment), resulting in Padme choosing to be Anakin's lover instead of his wife.  
> They break-up sometime in 21 BBY (basically a year into the Clone Wars). 
> 
> **By The Book(s):** Zonoma Sekot was first introduced In _Rogue Planet_ by Greg Bear.  
> The planet was known for producing the fastest ships in the galaxy. In _Rogue Planet_ Anakin bonded with a record number of seed-partners giving him more flexibility in design and a superior ship as a result. That ship unfortunately did not survive.


	2. Friend In Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Ahsoka's trial, Riyo reaches out a helping hand to Anakin, who reaches back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've gone back in time, just FYI. The story will be chronological from here, but please reference **Timeline Shenanigans** below for some of the changes I've made. **Please also note** that I am only notating the _year_ in which events occur, I am not messing with months. For perspicuity's sake I will say that the _Galactic Standard Calendar_ is made up of twelve months that are roughly seven, five-day-weeks long. 
> 
> How's that for confusing? 
> 
> Lets simplify:  
> 5 days = 1 week  
> 7 weeks = 1 month  
> 12 months = 1 year
> 
> _Anyway_ , there are yet more references to events of _Rogue Planet_ in this chapter.
> 
> And while I'm here, I'm gonna go ahead and tell you not to get accustomed to weekly updates.

"It is the calm and silent water that drowns a man."

* * *

**20 BBY – Senate Rotunda, Coruscant**

“Master Jedi!” Riyo called reflexively the moment she caught sight of Anakin Skywalker traipsing through the hallways outside the Senate rotunda.

“Senator Chuchi,” He greeted, pausing with a slight bow as Senator Amidala – with whom Riyo belated realized he’d been speaking – came to a stop as well.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I was hoping – if you have the time, of course – that I might be able to speak with you privately for a moment.” Shifting her gaze she greeted her colleague. “Senator Amidala.”

The Nubian returned her respectful nod before looking at the Jedi. “It’s no trouble at all Senator, our business is concluded.”

Riyo blinked in mild surprise at the woman’s cool tone. She had always gotten the feeling that Padmé and Knight Skywalker were quite close. In fact she knew from many conversations with Ahsoka that that was so. Deciding that it was none of her business and pushing those musings to the back of her mind to be examined later, Riyo refocused her attention on the uncharacteristically quiet Knight standing before her.

“Master Jedi?” This time her voice was soft, beseeching and concerned as the observations sunk in; his bowed shoulders, sallow skin, and the deep bruises beneath his eyes. For some reason the sight vividly brought back the memory of him bound and unconscious – helpless - in her lap while they and several of her fellow Senators were being held hostage.

“Of course Senator,” His valiant effort at his usual come-get-in-trouble-with-me smile falling flat as the Senator from Naboo took her leave without further ado.

“Excellent, my office is a bit of walk from here, but I’m sure it’s nothing you can’t handle.” She teased.

His lips curled only the slightest bit at her playful tone, but at least this smile was genuine. Pleased, Riyo headed off with her typical – and according her etiquette tutor, unladylike – ground eating stride, confident that his long legs would have no trouble keeping pace.

Soon enough, they were safely ensconced in her office, the continued silence between them verging on uncomfortable. Clearing her throat, Riyo fidgeted slightly. She wasn’t uncomfortable with Jedi, merely with the juxtaposition between how well she _felt_ she knew this particular one sometimes – because he _was_ Ahsoka’s main topic of conversation – and how well she _technically_ knew him; barely acquaintances truly. No matter. That isn’t why she’d asked to speak with him. 

“How’s Ahsoka?” She finally rushed out, beginning to pace in agitation. “I was appalled by the lack of due process in her trial, that she was convicted with only circumstantial evidence is outrageous! And I did vote in her favor, I never for a moment believed her guilty, but I haven’t been able to speak with her myself. She hasn’t answered my comms. I was hoping…” She trailed off before sighing in defeat. “I don’t know what I was hoping.”

Anakin seemed to brace himself; feet planted solidly, shoulders pulling back, hands clasped behind his back. He licked dry lips before speaking, azure eyes guarded but undeniably pained.

“Ahsoka has left the order. The council…” he trailed off as she gasped in surprise, sighed, and started again. “Her faith in the order was shaken… to the point that she felt like she could no longer honor her vows despite being reinstated.”

Riyo listened raptly, caught in the maelstrom of his eyes, her own heart aching in her chest. She knew how strong the bond between Master and Apprentice was, remembered not only the countless stories told by Ahsoka of how Anakin had saved her, how the first sight she saw whenever she woke in a medical wing was her Master, watching over, but also what she had personally witnessed at that farce of a trial. Then he had stood tall and proud, his mere presence commanding the attention of everyone in the chamber without having to say a word, backed by the Temple Sentinels and with the true perpetrator in tow, saving his Apprentice one last time.

Oh how badly they both must be hurting. Each feeling like they’d failed the other.

Hesitantly, Riyo reached out a hand to rest on his arms, now crossed defensively across his chest. “So it’s not just me she’s cut out then.”

A half strangled, humorless laugh tore from his throat. “No. She’s not talking to anyone. I know she’s safe, that she’s found a job as a mechanic in the mid levels, and has a roof over her head at least, but...” He swallowed, eyes dry but tear-bright, voice lowering to nearly a whisper. “She told me she needs to figure this out for herself, that I can’t do it for her.” 

Riyo’s heart constricted further at his obvious pain.

At this moment, lit by the golden glow of the setting sun, he looked for the entire galaxy like a mythic hero of old. Carrying the weight of worlds, but removed from them by the very fate that assigned his burden. Isolated. Alone. And so very weary.

She couldn’t carry his burden for him, but perhaps, if he would let her, they could help each other nonetheless. Shore up each other’s strength when one couldn’t do it alone anymore.

Resolutely, she stepped forward; now so close that he couldn’t avoid her gaze (not that he’d tried yet, but still…), and quickly lifted her wrist comm to transfer her information to his. “This is my private comm. Call me. Any time. We can help each other through this. Don’t worry about security; I take no chances after The Trade Federation’s attempt to pressure Pantora into joining the Separatist Alliance. It’s encrypted. I’ve sent you the scramble set as well.”

He blinked, looking down at his wrist comm in mild surprise before looking back at her, intense eyes narrowed and calculating. Stripped bare beneath his scrutinizing gaze, Riyo had no doubt that he was gauging her presence in the Force as well as her body language.

Seconds seemed to stretch into oblivion, before he finally nodded, lowering his head and gaze almost bashfully. “Thank you, Senator Chuchi. I see why Ahsoka always spoke so highly of you.” He said, raising his own comm and sending his information to her as well.

“She spoke highly of you as well,” Riyo smiled. “And please, call me Riyo.”

He bowed, trademark smirk making an overdue appearance. “Of course,” He backed toward her door, clearly taking his leave, mischief sparking in his eyes. “Senator…”

She huffed at his cheek, a smile pulling at her own lips, sharing a brief warm moment with him before the door whirred closed between them. 

* * *

“I already told you Ani, I cant.” Padmé sighed.

The moment Senator Chuchi’s door had closed between them; Anakin had turned on his heel and marched straight to Padmé’s office, smile no where to be found. He was _not_ going to let her dismiss him like she’d tried to outside the rotunda. This was too important. He may have failed his Padawan, but he wouldn’t fail his troopers.

“But you represented Ahsoka last week!”

“Exactly! I’m already viewed as a partisan. If I keep getting involved like that people will start to think I’m too biased, and will dismiss my stance on other issues by saying that I can’t be objective.”

“How? You’d be defending a trooper, not another Jedi.”

“Look Ani, I’m really sorry about this, okay? I can’t imagine how awful the past couple of weeks have been for you, but there’s nothing I can do. Dogma committed a war crime. End of story.”

“But,” Anakin cut in, only to be cut off when Padmé spoke over him in turn.

“It doesn’t matter why he did it Ani! He killed his commanding general. Maybe after the war is over an appeal can be filed for him, but right now he’s getting court-martialed.”

“Well, what about Rex?” 

“Is only facing an inquiry! He’s not been accused of sedition-“

“He’s being held in the same holding-“

“Odds are that he’ll spend an afternoon answering questions and be back on active duty by the next day.

“I can’t help.” She reiterated with an exasperated huff. “And you shouldn’t either.”

“What?” Anakin asked incredulously, almost laughing at the ridiculous statement. “He’s my second in command!”

“And Ahsoka was your Padawan.” She met his gaze with a flinty stare of her own. “This is the second high profile infraction committed by someone under your command. If you charge into Rex’s inquiry and derail it like you did Ahsoka’s trial, it will reflect badly on you.”

“Ahsoka was innocent.” He grit out, voice low and dangerous.

“And your troops aren’t. No matter how you may view it.”

Padmé sighed, feeling suddenly exhausted. Anakin was always so much work. “If you involve yourself again in a process that is outside the Jedi’s jurisdiction you risk not only your reputation, but your position. The Senate _can_ call for a general’s removal with a vote of no confidence. Don’t push it Ani.”

Anakin wanted to push it, oh how he wanted to push it. But Padmé hadn’t said anything he hadn’t already heard from the Jedi Council – when he petitioned to keep what had happened with Krell an internal matter. A lost cause of course, the troopers were the _property_ of the GAR and thus strictly under Senate jurisdiction.

Anakin clenched his fists, teeth grinding against the scathing retorts he wanted to make.

“I am sorry Anakin.” Padmé said again, eyes soft for the first time. “I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but things will be back to normal in no time. You’ll see.”

Anakin scoffed. Normal? How could she say that?

Even if he got Rex back, and they somehow managed to mend the surely damaged trust between the 501st and the Jedi, Snips would be _gone_. The gaping mental wound where their bond had rested comfortably was testament enough that “normal” wasn’t exactly in his future.

All he’d wanted for his last few years under Obi-Wan’s tutelage was independence. Control over his life for the first time literally _ever_. He hadn’t wanted responsibility for anyone but himself. Certainly hadn’t wanted to get saddled with a Padawan, but Ahsoka had wormed her way into his heart with shocking ease. Turned out he loved having a Padawan.

Now all he had to show for it was a shattered bond and an apprentice that wouldn’t speak to him anymore.

He would never take another Padawan. It wasn’t even a question. Ahsoka would always be his one and only.

“No, _Senator_ ” he spat. “They wont.”

Padmé’s eyes tightened at his tone, but he charged ahead without giving her time for a rebuttal. “I’ll see myself out, since our business is concluded. Thank you for your time.”

“Ani,” she tried.

He was already out the door.

It was only three days later when Anakin again found himself at the courthouse – his new least favorite building on Coruscant - pacing like a caged nexu outside the auditorium. The blue guards unease with his presence only serving to fuel his ire.

He’d visited the barracks the night before. Wanting to see his men, to reassure them. The wariness in the shinnies at the sight of a Jedi set his teeth on edge. But it was the new glimmer of mistrust, the reservation he’d never seen in the men he’d fought beside for so long that truly stroked his rage.

Not at them of course. Someone they had trusted to lead them had betrayed them. Someone who belonged to the same Order he did. They couldn’t see him in quite the same light after such an experience. He knew that.

Rationally.

And no matter how bad of a Jedi it made him, he hated the Besalisk for putting that mistrust there, for killing his men, for tricking them into killing each other. He would have killed Krell himself when he found out if they hadn’t already done it.

And he’d told them so.

It was worth admitting how bad of a Jedi he was to see Fives’ shoulders relax. Worth it to see the hint of a grim smile on Echo. The tension that had suffused the air when he’d entered drained away as he spent the night with them. Moving from one group to another, talking to as many of them as he could. Reassuring them that Rex would be back before they knew it.

When they’d asked after ‘Commander Tano’ he hadn’t been able to suppress his wince. Eyes downcast he’d told them the truth. That he’d been recalled from Umbara because someone had bombed the Jedi temple, then framed Snips for it. He’d found the real perpetrator and Ahsoka had been cleared, but she’d still chosen to leave.

No one really had anything to say to that. Maybe under different circumstances they would have. But Fives’ hand resting solidly on his shoulder for the few seconds he’d left it there had meant more than any words could have. He was still their General, and they were sorry for his loss.

Anakin straightened as the lower level doors opened. The Senators in attendance would leave through the gallery doors on the higher levels; this door was reserved for the defendant and their counsel.

Rex walked out alone, stripped down to his blacks.

“It’s good to see you, Rex.”

The clone captain looked at him strangely for a moment, before his mouth tilted in a small smile. “It’s good to see you too, sir.”

“Let’s get out of here. Go celebrate with the boys.” Even though Anakin wasn’t really sure there was anything worth celebrating over. He was pretty sure Rex didn’t see anything either. Still, maybe booze would help smooth over some of the lingering rough edges. They’d be deployed again soon. Best to restore some trust first.

* * *

-< 2 Months Later >-

* * *

Riyo winced, trying to rub the persistent ache from her scalp, courtesy of her headdress. She didn’t understand how some of the other Senators were able to wear even more elaborate pieces for hours at a time. She appreciated that the Senate’s main dress code was modest cultural representation, but that didn’t make the metal anymore comfortable. At least it was hollow.

A wry grin twisted her lips when she remembered the first time she wore such a piece – and was scandalized to find out that it wasn’t costume jewelry as she’d initially suspected, but precious – and expensive – metal.

A chirp from her private comlink pulled her from her ruminating. Confused, she looked at the chrono depicting Pantora’s time. It wasn’t even dawn yet. Her family wouldn’t be calling unless something was drastically wrong.

Worried, she snatched the device from the table and activated the holo in her palm without checking the channel. Precious few could reach her this way, and in fact only her family ever had.

Which is why she felt her surprise entirely justified when it was Anakin Skywalker’s visage that greeted her. “Master Skywalker,” she blinked, abruptly aware of her attire – or rather lack thereof. She flushed indigo in the brief moment he spent taking her in.

“Is this a bad time?” His lips twitched from restraining a smile.

“No, not at all.” She assured, deciding that her shift and leggings were modest enough, considering she’d already ditched her tunic and skirt when she’d removed the headdress.

He looked at her askance, eyebrow raised.

“Really,” she assured, despite the flush still staining her cheeks. “What can I do for you this evening?”

Now it was his turn to look uncomfortable. “Uhh, well…” He hedged, scratching his head. “You said I could comm you and now is normally the time when I’d spar with Ahsoka, but…” He trailed off with a grimace, shoulders bowing as if he was trying to make himself smaller.

Riyo smiled in sad understanding. “I see.” She murmured. “And you’ve already done everything else you could possibly think of to distract yourself, I assume?”

He looked suddenly sheepish, and she laughed freely at his obvious guilt. “I’m not offended Master Jedi. To be honest, I didn’t actually expect you to take me up on my offer.” His brows furrowed into a frown, clearly wondering if he was overstepping.

“But I am glad you did. It _was_ sincere. I don’t give this channel to just anyone.” She interjected mildly. He looked down but didn’t otherwise respond.

Deciding that needling him a little about avoiding her would be a fun way to break the ice, Riyo dove in. “So, what did you do while trying to avoid me?”

He huffed what might have been a laugh. “Why are you so certain that I didn’t comm you first thing?”

“You didn’t.” She grinned with supreme confidence. “Come now Master Jedi, regale me.”

He huffed another incredulous laugh, peering up at her through thick lashes as though he’d never seen her before.

Riyo waited patiently, a raised brow and lips pursed against a grin the only breaks in her composure.

“Well, Rex decided that I needed sleep and politely kicked me off my own bridge. I wasn’t actually tired and I’ve spent the last month repairing everything I could get my hands on, so there’s nothing left there for me to do. The _Twilight_ has been modified to my hearts content and I run through my katas and exercises every morning. I’m _even_ caught up on my mission briefs to the Council and all the paperwork that goes with it. R2s fully maintenanced, Obi-Wan’s being boring, I used the sonic, played some sabacc with the men, still not ready to sleep, don’t want to meditate, would normally spar with Ahsoka in this situation but… here I am.” He shrugged.

Riyo laughed. “Did Rex really think you needed to sleep?”

“No,” he snorted. “He was sick of going over the same maps and battle plans for the fifteenth time but couldn’t tell his general that so instead he decided that I _had_ to be exhausted and as my second he was supposed to look out for me and therefore could kick me off the bridge _if_ it was for my own good.

”…He’s spent too much time with Kix.”

“Who’s Kix?”

Anakin gave a hard eye roll. “My Chief Medical Officer. Don’t get me wrong, he’s damn good at what he does and I’m lucky to have him. But he is a real pain in the ass sometimes.”

He cringed. “Pardon my language, my lady.”

“No pardon necessary Master Jedi. And please, if we are to speak candidly, I’d be honored if you called Riyo.”

“Only if you stop this ‘Master Jedi’ nonsense. Technically I’m no longer a Master of any kind among the Jedi.” His expression darkened considerably.

She winced internally. Calling him ‘Master’ must remind him of Ahsoka. “Anakin then.”

Their stilted conversation continued, initially focusing on work for both of them. Anakin spoke of the campaign while Riyo shared what had been happening in the Senate, and her frustrations with some of her fellow representatives apparent war profiteering, and her unease with the ever more invasive addendums finding themselves wormed into bills. Slowly they became more comfortable, and by the time an hour had passed the exchange was as effortless as if they’d been lifelong friends.

“You did not!” Riyo laughed about the cleaning droid Anakin had salvaged that had found itself in smoldering pieces after wandering uninvited into the Council Chambers.

“Not on purpose! I didn’t send it to spy on them. Windu was just salty from tripping over a different droid the week before.”

“You’re trouble aren’t you?” She smiled rhetorically.

A rakish smirk graced his features, sharp and alluring. “You have no idea.”

“And here I thought a monastic upbringing would be quiet, peaceful even.”

“I don’t do ‘quiet’ very well.”

“Oh, I’m intrigued. I was a very good girl growing up and in hindsight it was rather boring; even if I don’t regret it.” And she didn’t. Riyo was where she wanted to be.

“Well, according to Obi-Wan, I had a ‘radius of trouble’. Especially before I got my lightsaber and training became more interesting.

“Although to be honest it wasn’t that my radius got smaller or that I snuck out less, I just got better at timing my escapades.”

“Radius of trouble? What did you do?”

“Pit races mostly. Lift wings are easier to get than a pod or speeder - that I would have had to modify anyway and couldn’t exactly store at the temple.”

“Pit races, what are those?”

“Garbage pit races, with lift wings. The objects to glide through three levels to the bottom of the pit, grab a scale off a Garbage Worm – without becoming its food, of course – and then fly back up through the chutes all without getting hit by the refuse cannons being shot out into space.”

Riyo was momentarily stunned. “… So you’re telling me people suffered death by projectile waste? How is that legal?”

“Oh yeah they did. And it’s not.” He grinned wide and honest. “Wanna see?”

She blinked. “They’re still happening?”

“Probably more than ever.” He shrugged. “People need credits, and distractions from their troubles.”

Riyo grunted an affirmation. People did she distractions… she needed distractions. Having only become a Senator just before the Military Creation Act was voted on, almost her entire tenure thus far had been served during the war. Which had left her little time to explore the core world. She really didn’t know what Coruscant had to offer outside the endless debates and committees of the Senate.

“Next time I’m on Coruscant, I’ll take you out. Show you life on a city planet outside the Senate District.”

A smile spread on her face. “Okay, I’m in.”

“You wont regret it.” He said with a wicked smile.

She hummed, excited by the tentative plan but knowing that it could very easily be months before he returned to Coruscant. “Where are you headed right now, anyway?”

His face tightened. “Kiros. They’re a pacifist, neutral planet under imminent threat from the Separatists. They reached out to Master Yoda for aid a few rotations ago.”

Something outside the holotransmitter caught his attention. “We’re about to initiate our last jump, I have to go.”

Riyo felt a sudden cold sense of dread. “Of course, may the Force be with you, Anakin.” She stumbled over his name, which suddenly seemed so intimate, fighting the instinct to call him ‘Master Jedi’.

He looked at her intensely for a brief moment. “I’ll comm you when I’m headed back to the core. May the force be with you.”

His holo disappeared, the transmission cut from his end.

Riyo took a deep, shuddering breath; he could take care of himself, she knew that. But now she also knew how easy he was to talk to and banter with. How wonderful a genuine laugh from him could be. One hour might not be long - certainly not enough to make them legitimate friends - but it was a start. She knew now that she wanted his friendship. Not just because of Ahsoka anymore, but for herself. He was a good man, one she wanted to be able to call friend.

Hopefully she’d get the chance. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://postimages.org/)  
> I give you my attempt at Riyo (because I have no self control), and a pic of Hayden just because (yes, that is from _Outcast_ \- I like his haircut). ;)
> 
> Also, just so it's out there, I'd like to say that I have some strong issues with Disney's "contributions" to _Star Wars_ and havent managed to stomach an episode since _The Force Awakens_ (which Im pretty sure was never asleep... just saying) nor do I consider said contributions to be "canon." And why should I? They rearranged and recategorized canon after they bought it from the venerable George Lucas
> 
> *angry huff*
> 
> I'm salty people.
> 
> And deep in denial.
> 
> Just leave me to my delusions please.


	3. Of Tests And Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Zygerria Anakin struggles to put his past behind him; he and Riyo solidify their new friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains and references/content from _Rogue Plant_ and _Labyrinth of Evil_.
> 
>   
> [](https://postimages.org/)  
>    
> Also, I managed to both injure myself, and catch an unrelated infection that is not covid-19. Unfortunately, this has had an impact on my writing, I can't tell you when the next chapter will make it out, only that I love this story and have known how it was gonna end since I wrote the prolong. Which is a first for me.

"The past is never where you think you left it."  
\- Katherine Ann Porter

* * *

**20 BBY - Hyperspace**

Anakin found Rex sitting sprawled legged in a damaged hanger. He sighed, sliding down the wall to sit in a similar state beside his captain. He didn’t speak, merely held out the bottle of spirits he’d pilfered off Jesse.

Rex looked mildly offended at the bottle. It wasn’t uncommon for clones to enjoy a drink - or several - when off duty, particularly at 79’s, but the regs said “no mind altering substances when actively deployed or on standby.”

“Uhh… sir?”

“Just take it Rex.” He sighed.

The clone complied, holding it tentatively before taking a healthy swig.

“You did good Rex. I wouldn’t wish that experience on anyone, and I’m sorry you had it, but you did well. Saved the colonists and got to kill that slaver.”

“Just doing my duty sir. Besides, that’s why we fight, isn’t it? So that the galaxy doesn’t have to worry about scum like that. Not after the Republic’s victorious.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Anakin accepted the bottle back from Rex.

They drank in silence, passing the bottle back and forth between them. At length, Rex spoke again, hesitantly.

“Are… Are you all right General? You weren’t… acting like yourself there for a bit.”

Anakin fortified himself with another long pull. “Yeah… lets just say that I have history with slaver scum and leave it at that.”

Anakin looked straight ahead, refusing to meet Rex’s eye, though he was keenly aware of the stare being leveled at him.

“That’s why you understand us clones, isn’t it? You know what it’s like to be treated like a tool, instead of a person.”

_‘You smell like a_ slave _.’_

It was testament to how much the captain had had to drink that he had said that. Rex was sharp and observant, but tended to keep his own counsel. Thinking out loud like that – and to a Jedi General nonetheless - was a sure sign of inebriation.

_‘Maybe Qui-Gon should have left you at Watto’s junk shop.’_

Hoping Rex was too wasted to remember this conversation come morning, Anakin quietly breathed the painful truth. “I know what it’s like.” 

They sat in solidarity until the bottle was drained – mostly by Rex. Anakin had sought his second out because he knew that none of the clone’s considerable training dealt with things like a slaver’s “reconditioning” and that the captain wouldn’t want his men to see him trying to process the experience for fear that they’d see him as less.

The burden of a leader was so often a lonely one.

Anakin wouldn’t have been inclined to leave Rex to deal with this on his own in the best of circumstances but after Umbara it had been completely out of the question.

Returning to his cabin after guiding the swerving captain to his bunk. Anakin heavily sank down into his own, dropping his head to his hands. Sleep was a lost cause. He knew that. He rarely could anyway, but old wounds had been exposed. Not as the scars he’d thought they were by now, but open and festering. Proof that he hadn’t put his past as far behind him as he’d thought he had.

Anakin remembered the rush of sweet rage in his veins, the heady kiss of it on his mind, whispering its seductive promise of power and control, of freedom from his burdens. Familiar and comforting for all the shame such feelings brought upon a Jedi.

He shook his head; wanting to dislodge the memories, chase the lingering presence of such urges from his body.

“Kriff.” He rubbed his face with his hands.

_‘Maybe Qui-Gon should have left you at Watto’s junk shop.’_

Anakin winced. The sting of Obi-Wan’s little joke as potent as ever. Even if he knew the man didn’t really mean it.

… At least he thought he knew that.

That particular joke was about as funny as _“You’ll be the death of me,”_ meaning: Not At All.

Though he supposed the latter was probably the reason for the former. The uncivilized slave boy from the Outer Rim _couldn’t_ be the death of him if Qui-Gon had just left said slave boy to languish in endless sand.

_No._

He gripped his hair, pulling hard to draw himself from his thoughts with sensation. He knew he was a maudlin drunk. It was the primary reason he made sure to pace himself and not get truly pissed with anyone. A little buzz was okay, but anything more and Anakin started ruminating on his troubles. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

“Kriff.” He said again. Desperately wishing for the presence of his Padawan. Ahsoka just being there, and him being responsible for her, helped ground him in ways he had never expected. But Ahsoka was gone, Rex was sleeping one off, Obi-Wan had withdrawn to meditate as soon as he could get away, things with Padmé were strained right now, and even if they weren’t he couldn’t comm her from hyperspace, and for the same reason he couldn’t comm Senator Chuchi – _Riyo_ , he reminded himself - again either.

Now, alone with his thoughts, Anakin was spiraling. Like usual.

They were on their way to return the Togrutan colonists to Kiros, and then they’d be heading back to the Core to report to the Council and get some much needed R&R. In three standard weeks he’d be planetside again and had already confirmed plans with the Pantoran Senator to visit the pit races, but now he was thinking about adding a second stop to their outing.

The raw emotional wounds left him desiring the comfort of _home_. Not the temple, or Tatooine (stars forbid), but the feeling of being truly accepted, cared for… loved. Of belonging. Things he’d never felt at the temple. Briefly, he had thought he’d found that in Padmé, but it hadn’t been real, just an illusion - a beautiful dream. Now he found himself longing fiercely for Shmi, Grandmother Jira (she’d insisted despite not actually being his grandmother), and Kitster. People he wasn’t sure he’d ever see again despite desperately wanting to. Longing for The Gatherings as he’d known them then. Not the Jedi’s kyber crystal Gathering, but the congregating of slaves around a fire pit under the innumerable stars, singing their history and teaching the younglings the poems and legends, using instruments made of scavenged krayt bone, anooba skin and bantha hair.

Wandering the lower levels after he’d killed Ke Daiv - the Blood Carver who’d stalked and repeatedly attempted to assassinate a twelve-year-old Anakin Skywalker – he’d followed a gentle tug in the Force that had ended at a narrow set of descending stairs tucked between buildings and beneath a creaking sign so covered in grime he could barely tell it was written in Huttese.

_Nal Songa_ – Glorious Song.

The gentle tug from the Force guided him to the bouncer manning the stairs.

“Nyee, uta-sha shag chompa.”

Anakin had drawn back as though stung, with a stammered “W-what?” and felt an immediate flush of indignation at his own response. Before Ke Daiv he would have pretended he had never been a slave, or he would have been indignant about the past he was so determined to leave behind being called out like that. But Anakin was already off balance. Churning from the loss of innocence that came with your first kill. It had been in self-defense, but it hadn’t been a complete accident. He’d known what he was doing, and couldn’t pretend otherwise – even if he wanted to.

_‘What will you do,_ slave boy _?’_

Every insult and injury, the shame piled upon disgrace, over and over and over, that he’d never asked for, that a child could never deserve, the night sweats, the fear, the rage. It had welled up, potent with power in the Force – overwhelming. With Jabitha also being threatened by the Blood Carver, the dark power became charged with light, the desire to protect and destroy melding into one. Until he couldn’t hold it back any longer.

He knew what was happening. He didn’t _want_ to do it, but he just _couldn’t stop_. Not when the power was welling beyond his control, not when the Blood Carver kept driving the metaphorical blade home, stroking the animal instinct in the young Padawan to come raging forth. Made all the worse for the glimmer of connection he felt to Ke Daiv. The Blood Carver had been brave, had been attempting to restore his honor in the only way he knew. Anakin couldn’t help but wonder how like him he would have become if it weren’t for the Jedi.

All he could do after the rush of killing power was stay with Ke Daiv as the Blood Carver died. Listen to the cadence of his family’s death poem, rent with agony and sung with the last of his strength. Anakin stayed beside him, holding his arm, until he breathed his last.

Then the boy _screamed_.

He didn’t realize he was hyperventilating until he saw the bouncer – a scarred Twi’lek - frown in empathy. Still speaking in Huttese the man had gently asked Anakin about his ‘slave bite.’ The boy nodded, hesitantly shuffling forward.

The day the Jedi extracted his implant – which is really more of a very small vial containing two drops of solutions that were stable on their own, but _exceedingly_ volatile when combined, and thus had to be removed in two pieces - had been the very day he snuck out of the temple for the first time. It was easy enough for Anakin – with so much experience with smugglers and bounty hunters – to find the right parts of town for what he wanted: be that illegal races, junk piles, or ink. A common practice for former Hutt slaves was to rub ink into the wounds when their chips were removed. The resulting scar was colloquially termed _Shag Chompa_ , or _Slave Bite_ in basic. So Anakin had acquired some ink and snuck back into the temple all while Obi-Wan slept. Secluded in an abandoned service corridor, he’d peeled off the bacta patch, sniffling as he recited an old working song and aggravated the fresh mark with powdered ink and a harsh touch.

He hadn’t done it for himself. For himself he’d have let the bacta do its job, heal the small incisions until the scar disappeared. He did it for his mother. Still shackled to the disgusting Watto, who had wanted her son free more than anything. He marked his skin for her, for the traditions she’d taught him. It was a way to keep her close, a physical manifestation of his promise to return, to free her so that she could proudly bear a similar mark.

Wide eyed and cautious, he’d approached the male - whose scars he now realized came from surviving gladiator pits – and showed him the bite at the base of his skull, mostly hidden by hair just to the left of spine. The bouncer grunted in affirmation, nodding down the stairs.

Entering the _Nal Songa_ had brought tears to his eyes. It was bigger than he’d expected, and cleaner. Quiet as it was in the middle of a working day; on the platform a band was practicing with familiar instruments the songs sung throughout his childhood on Tatooine. The room was warm with a cloth covered ceiling, reminiscent of a yurt in the desert, concrete walls covered with plaster to resemble sandstone. The scents of heavily spiced dried meat and flat bread wafting from an open door brought back the memory of his mother cooking.

Home.

That was the unequivocal feeling that washed over him.

Seeing him standing there like a statue, teardrops caught in his lashes, was enough for the barmaid to rush over and user the young Padawan into a stool at the bar before pressing a mug of warmed blue milk into his trembling hands.

He’d stayed until the crushing weight that had driven him from the temple had lifted. Soaked up the familiar songs and food, the camaraderie of shared horrors. Feeling stable again he’d left in the darkest hours. Returned to a worried Obi-Wan and many lectures on behavior befitting a Jedi and never gone back to the _Glorious Song_.

He was thinking about it now though, almost a decade later, sitting in his cabin aboard the _Resolute_ , another inexplicable weight resting on his shoulders. A sour taste filled his mouth at the thought of bringing someone there. He’d never even distantly considered the notion of such a choice with Padmé. But Padmé had known about his former status, had been in the dingy slave quarters assigned to he and his mother. And Riyo wasn’t a lover - was barely a friend. If information about his past was enough to cause an undesirable reaction from her then maybe he didn’t want her for a friend after all. Best to find out now, before he became too invested, before her leaving him would hurt. Taking her to the _Glorious Song_ would certainly be the test he needed.

With a heavy sigh Anakin heaved himself to his feet, stripped mechanically and stepped into his personal refresher for a sonic. He needed Zygerria off his skin. Already knowing sleep would be a lost cause, a freshly clean Anakin didn’t even bother trying. Instead he slipped into comfortable sleep trousers (that he never actually slept in), pulled out his meditation mat, and attempted to clear his mind and calm his emotions.

Obi-Wan would be proud.

* * *

-< 3 Weeks Later >-

* * *

**20 BBY - Coruscant**

Riyo fidgeted, plucking at a loose thread in the worn poncho adorning her shoulders, anticipation getting the better of her. She was admittedly a little early for their planned rendezvous outside _Dex’s Diner_ , but she’d decided soon after receiving a set of worn clothes via droid courier that it would be prudent to take multiple taxi’s – under different names – and double back.

Anakin had used personal funds to send the package to her anonymously, she knew because neither his name nor the Jedi Temple seal were anywhere to be found on the package. Despite the note very clearly indicating what the clothes were for.

It would seem he worried she might not have clothes on Coruscant suitable for an outing to the lower levels. A valid concern considering that this would be her first legitimate outing on the Core planet despite two years of working in the Galactic Senate.

The next in a long line of speeders pulled up to the small curb she was waiting at outside the diner.

“Hey,” The pilot called out to her, raising goggles from his eyes, infectious smile spread wide, “get in.”

“Anakin,” she breathed, noting that she wasn’t the only one in disguise.

It was only her years of political maneuvering that gave her the control necessary to refrain from ogling – or telling him that the new look worked for him. Gone were his Jedi robes. In their place were thick trousers of working cloth, and a simple tunic overlaid by the kind of flight jacket favored by pilots in the Outer Rim, all in dark smoky shades. The only carryovers from his typical garments were the well-worn boots that had no doubt carried him through countless battles, and the ever-present glove over his right hand.

Obediently, she clambered onto the speeder-bike behind him. Flicking her plaited hair over her shoulder, Riyo hesitated briefly before securing her arms around his waist.

He took off, darting through lanes of traffic with reckless abandon.

Riyo couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up as they dodged and weaved with enough speed to make even her eyes water. She’d somehow managed to briefly forget that one of the reasons they were going to the pit races in the first place was because _he used to race in them_.

And she was beginning to understand why.

The freedom was glorious, the rush of adrenaline exhilarating – intoxicating even. So different from how she was normally shuttled from place to place. Put in the safest spot in the shuttle, security or her aide making sure she was buckled in. Ma’am this, and Ma’am that - only the safest routes at the safest speeds, all to avoid risking the Senator. It was maddening to said Senator, being treated like a porcelain doll.

This? The wind teasing hair from her plait and stinging her eyes, engine thrumming beneath her, a warm body pressed against hers, an indigo flush staining her cheeks with the thrill of it all… this was living. 

They descended lower and lower, further than she’d ever realized the buildings extended, and still they hadn’t reached the surface. Not for the first time the true scope of the city planet impressed upon her. So many beings, from all walks of life, congregated on one planet.

Eventually they pulled over into a dilapidated hanger that wasn’t quite as abandoned as the exterior would suggest – something she was beginning to suspect was a truth to the lower levels in general.

“We’re on the edge of The Works. Once upon a time the industrial center of Coruscant – in fact, the lingering pollution from the factories here is the reason for the gold and red sunsets we still get. Come on, we hoof it from here.”

Riyo scurried to catch up before matching his stride.

As they walked the air thickened with the smell of ozone and burnt rubber over an undercurrent of waste. The jeering of an unseen crowd drew them forward. Anakin ducked into a service corridor, maneuvering through the abandoned tunnels without hesitation for several long minutes until they found themselves on the observation walkway where the district’s garbage pit – a monstrosity at two kilometers wide and three tall - spread before them.

“Bets! Place your bets!” A grime-covered boy no older than twelve called as he walked the line of spectators. “Flights staring soon!”

They were below the first shield, a wide-eyed Riyo realized, looking up at the _hundreds_ of ten-meter wide holes above her in wonder. Similar breaks in the shields below were the paths the racers had to take to get to the lower levels, and were also the paths through which _volleys_ of waste canisters were launched into orbit by magnetic rail guns – every five seconds.

The sound – a deep, reverberating sonic boom - of a volley shooting off was deafening, the updraft from its passage lifting her borrowed poncho and tossing her plait about.

“Glory and destiny!” She heard someone shout.

“They’re going! Look!” Anakin pointed toward the opening of another service tunnel, brimming with excitement and leaning against the balustrade.

Leaning over the railing beside him she saw five beings dive into the opening, swerving around the raining metal as another volley of canisters was launched onto orbit.

Strategically placed holocams and projectors allowed a better view when three of the five racers safely made it to the next level.

Riyo’s blood was high, the energy of the crowd proving infectious. Anakin – having to shout into her ear to be heard over the cacophony - explained strategy as the racers bobbed and weaved through lethal metal rain, and that to win, one had to not only make it through to the bottom level with the garbage worms, but also safely return to The Greeter with a scale taken from one of said worms.

Fascinated, Riyo couldn’t help but ask. “Did you ever win?” and wonder how she hadn’t thought to ask before.

“Yes! But Obi-Wan caught up to me at the bottom and wouldn’t let me turn in my scale!” Anakin rolled his eyes.

Riyo was aghast. “But why?”

“Probably because I wasn’t supposed to be racing in the first place, much less making money off it.”

“Do you still have the scale?”

“I do, actually. Haven’t looked at it in years though.”

“Flight starting soon!” The grimy little boy called again, prepping the crowd for the next round, “Place your bets!” None of the racers had made it to the garbage level. One had a broken back, another a shattered arm, another twisted remains where a leg had been, and two had aborted safely.

Five rounds in, droids that had been circling the perimeter above descended to the observation level, alarms shrieking. 

Pandemonium ensued.

“What’s happening?” Riyo shouted, holding firm against the press of bodies suddenly in motion, refusing to be swept away, though she doubted Anakin could hear her over the fresh noise.

“Cops!” Anakin shouted back, grabbing her hand. “Run!”

Riyo shrieked as Anakin shot off into the chaos, keeping a firm grip on her hand and dragging her along. A few paces later she’d got her feet properly under her and could keep up on her own.

He still didn’t let go.

They dodged bodies and weaved through the tunnels like they had traffic lanes on their way down.

“Halt! Freeze!” A police droid descended from a vertical tunnel ahead of them.

Anakin turned sharply; making sure that the droid couldn’t get a proper scan of either of their faces, and darted down an intersecting tunnel, yanking Riyo with him. They ran full tilt through a dizzying number of intersections, but always ascending.

Eventually they climbed out street level, the Pantoran panting for air on the duracrete after the Jedi had lifted her out the last tunnel and was quietly easing the grate back over the opening. He turned to her, pressing a finger to his lips, indicating the continued need for silence. She nodded with a hard swallow, trying to control her breathing. Getting up to slink behind him through the shadows, edging toward the hanger where they’d left the speeder.

Anakin cursed quietly in Huttese when they were a block away, ducking quickly back behind a building. Riyo eased out from behind him to look around the corner at what had caused the reaction.

Clones, assigned to patrol the streets of Coruscant were between them and the dilapidated hanger.

She looked up at the Jedi beside her and mouthed ‘now what?’

He frowned in thought, glancing quickly back around the corner, before gesturing for her to wait. Then he raised a hand, eyes closed.

The sound of something being knocked over on the other end of the block drew the clone’s attention, allowing Senator and Jedi to dash across the street and zigzag through repurposed structures until they at long last reached their goal.

There was no way to sneak the rumbling bike out of the locked down neighborhood, but police droids and even clones were no match for Anakin’s piloting skills. They mounted the bike in silence then revved the engine and made their break for the upper levels, losing their tails in record time.

“We’re good!” Anakin called over his shoulder when he was sure they’d made a clean break.

Riyo couldn’t help but laugh in relief. “How often does that happen?” She asked, pressing closer to his back to be heard.

“Almost never!” He called over the rushing wind. “The metropolitan officials in charge of the waste districts are all bribed! They make a lot of money off turning a blind eye.”

He paused briefly, seeming to hesitate before continuing. “You up for another stop? We wont get chased by cops again, I promise – most likely, anyway.” Anakin smiled over his shoulder at her, mischief sparking in his azure eyes, still flying at break-neck speed through Coruscanti traffic.

Riyo was no longer sure it was possible to say no to that particular come-get-in-trouble-with-me expression he’d mastered so thoroughly.

Or maybe it was just his face.

Riyo decided not to think too hard about it either way.

“Well, the races _were_ cut short.” She said, by way of agreement.

Anakin nodded, merging into a different lane of traffic, making a legal U turn, and continuing at a more sedate speed.

Eventually, they put down in a different district. He didn’t tell her the name of this one, just swung off the bike and offered a hand down; his mood no longer quite as jubilant as it had been. He seemed determined though… about something.

They walked through crowded streets in silence to their next destination. Narrow stairs topped by two Twi’lek males, a domesticated anooba resting at their feet, bright eyes alert.

Anakin didn’t recognize either male, nor did he remember the anooba being there the last – and only - time he’d come to _Nal Songa_ before this. But he recognized their scars - the lashes from whips and more from the rings – and body language. So he moved forward without hesitating, showing the bite on his neck before they could ask, and grunting in Hutteses that the Pantoran was with him.

They didn’t immediately move out of the way. The blue skinned male looked at Riyo in confusion - clearly wonder why Anakin would bring an outsider here - while the green looked at him with sympathy heavy in his gaze. He knew what Anakin was doing, had clearly seen it before, and just as clearly the outcome in times gone by was less than desirable.

Anakin felt strangely numb at the thought.

This could very easily be the end of his affable interactions with Riyo. And why? Because he had to test her as he’d tested everyone? His mother, Padmé, the Chancellor, the Jedi at large and Obi-Wan in particular? Part of him questioned the necessity of testing, always testing, anyone who tried to get close. Even though he knew in the end it wouldn’t change a thing. He _had_ to know. The compulsion an itch under his skin. Sometimes he had decent guesses, in this case however Anakin honestly didn’t know how Riyo was going to respond – she’d already surprised him too many times to count. And he didn’t know what that would mean here.

The bouncers moved aside, the anooba growling low in his throat at being disturbed, but following his maters nonetheless.

And still Riyo didn’t say anything. Merely sedately followed him down the stairs and into the _Nal Songa_. Anakin paused on the threshold, sizing the night’s crowd – it was a good one. The room lively with music and conversation, a few dancing to the familiar tunes, the way they’d once danced around a fire. They snatched open seats at the bar, Anakin flagging down the bartender.

“I’m grateful you managed to keep us from getting arrested, thank you.” Riyo said, breaking the silence and pulling Anakin from his spiraling thoughts. “It would have been the end of my career.”

“What?” He looked at her, confused. “Politicians watch and bet on those races all the time.”

“Yes, and if I was human I’d get nothing more than a letter of censure, but I’m Pantoran, and the tide has increasingly turned against all non-humans, even those classified as near-human.”

Anakin was stumped – he’d heard nothing of this. “But… why?”

Riyo sighed, breaking eye contact to sip at the flagon that’d been placed in front of her.

“It started with discrimination against hive species, because some – like the Nemodians and the Geonosians - were central in the early CIS movement. From there it’s been slowly spreading. The longer this war wages, the worse it gets. The language is even being written into bills being debated on the Senate floor.” She shook her head with a sigh. “Nothing that directly affects Pantora or its people – _yet_ \- but neither the Chairman nor myself are blind to what is happening, nor ignorant of the implications.”

“But… the Chancellor,” Anakin started, wanting to tell Riyo that he was a good man, that he had to be unaware of the increasing tensions and toxicity.

Riyo stopped him dead with a bleak expression and another head shake. “The Chancellor is part of the problem.”

Already on edge from bringing Riyo to _Nal Songa_ , Anakin’s mercurial mood shifted with ease. Temper sliding from its sheath like a well-honed blade.

“He’s a good man,” He all but snarled. “And he just wants what’s best for the Republic.”

“That may be true. But he is also a good politician, and isn’t above using crises to further his own agenda. For instance, you remember when a group of bounty hunters took several Senators – myself included – hostage, yes?”

Anakin was instantly on the defensive. “That wasn’t the Chancellor’s fault.” He bit out harshly.

Riyo rested a gentle hand on his arm, looking up at him with shining gold-coin eyes, waiting for him to absorb the open honesty and calm conviction radiating from her. She didn’t cower from his temper, or rise to meet his aggression with her own. She simply waited, soft but unyielding, and Anakin felt the beast inside himself soothed by it – by her - his hackles lowering.

“I am not saying that he was at fault. I _am_ saying that he used what happened to override our objections and push forth the Enhanced Privacy Invasion Bill. Every Senator in the east wing that day had voiced opposition to the measure and was trying to delay the vote.” Riyo’s soft voice was calm and even, as steady as her gaze that still hadn’t released him. “And that is merely one example of many. Even in just the few years I’ve represented Pantora, I’ve seen the pattern. He used the rising CIS crisis – well before it was a war – to extend his time in office – indefinitely.”

“But the Senate approved that, wanted him to stay, _and_ they voted to grant him the emergency powers they complain about so much now.” He was no longer angry at her insinuations, but he was frustrated and confused. Politics really weren’t his strong suit.

“True. The Senate _did_ give him emergency powers, _without_ setting conditions for the return of said powers to the Senate. And that was our mistake.”

Anakin’s brow furrowed in deepening confusion. The Chancellor had always said that they were temporary measures he’d accepted against his better judgment. That he loved the Republic and wanted to preserve it. Of course there were conditions.

“Hasn’t he promised to return all those powers once the war is over?”

“Yes, but that promise isn’t actually binding. Nothing in the Emergency Proclamation or any of the following reformations sets conditions upon which they must automatically return to the Senate, nor can the Senate vote to have its rights restored. It’s all at the discretion of the Chancellor. That’s not democracy – it’s a dictatorship. Which is _not_ what your men fight and die to defend.

“And there’s a new one being implemented, the Reflex Amendment, which expands surveillance inside the Senate. Beyond just the public spaces and entry points, this would put surveillance inside every office – except the Supreme Chancellor’s. We would be listened to, watched, all the time.

“I was elected to be Pantora’s voice in the Republic. I do not speak for myself, I speak for my people under guidance from the assembly. How am I supposed to conduct business – internal to Pantora and requisite to by duties – with the Chairman and the Speaker of the Assembly if I am being spied on? Who is it monitoring those feeds? Trust breeds trust, and mistrust the same. It is no longer a matter of only those suspected of terrorist activities or CIS sympathy being monitored; now, _everyone_ is being treated with the same suspicion.

“I am not saying that I believe the Supreme Chancellor to be an inherently bad man, but these days he exists in an echo chamber, listening only to his closest advisors who parrot the same ideas back at him, and surrounded by an illegal cadre of personal guards that answer to no one.

“I worry that the people are losing their voice, and the Republic its way. I fear that when the war is over, we wont even recognize ourselves.”

Anakin was speechless, his mind in turmoil. He didn’t doubt that Riyo’s words were sincere. Conviction rang like a gong in her voice and through the Force. He just struggled to match her words with his own experience – of the Senate and the Supreme Chancellor in particular. It just didn’t make sense. He was missing something - he had to be.

But what?

The somber mood didn’t last. Instead rolling off Riyo like water on a rock as her attention was drawn to musicians on the platform.

“What are they singing?” She turned to Anakin curiously. “I don’t recognize the language. It reminds me of Huttese but it’s not.”

A small, pained smile twisted his lips. “It’s a variant. A dialect only spoken by slaves.”

Anakin watched intently as Riyo took in her surroundings with new eyes. Clearly seeing what had gone unnoticed before. Her eyes lingering on visible scars, sadness and – was that respect? - permeating her force signature. She wasn’t shocked as Padmé had been, but then… that made sense. Naboo was sheltered in the Mid Rim and had been part of the Republic for almost a thousand years.

In contrast, Pantora was an isolated system in the Outer Rim - and at some point in the not-too-distant-past they’d had to make a choice. Align with the Hutts and become a syndicate under their rule, join the Republic for access to _their_ trading agreements, or stand alone and attempt to eek out a living in a desolate system with few allies and fewer friends. Choosing the Republic didn’t change the moon’s proximity to criminal territories, or make them any less a part of the Outer Rim – as underscored by the lively discussion they’d had about podracing during their first holo.

Riyo understood the horrors that existed for those subjugated by the Hutts and other slaver scum like them. The Pantoran wasn’t quite the idealist her Nubian counterpart was. Padmé had used righteous anger and a deep-seeded sense of justice to rally support against the Trade Federation when’d they blockaded Naboo. Riyo had walked onto their command ship with the intention of searching for the hostages, or finding other incriminating evidence to hold against the Nemoidians during Pantora’s blockade.

She’d straight up blackmailed the dopa-maskey sons of bitches and called it ‘business’.

She’d also walked out between troopers and pissed of Talz to negotiate a treaty despite the blood already shed and the Chairman’s insistence on war.

All in all, it wasn’t hard to respect Riyo Chuchi.

Hard _not_ to actually.

For Riyo it all made a sickening kind of sense. Anakin’s difficulty with trust, the absolute loyalty he gave those few who made it past his defensives, the bitterness and anger she’d glimpsed in brief moments that were so incongruous to the Jedi way.

She could see it now. The low simmering _hate_ ; the blue fire of his rage, banked but not gone, ready to rise with the slightest provocation. He was stewing in it – drowning in it. Clearly, the Jedi hadn’t known how to help. Hadn’t understood that the anger they so derided had helped him survive – scarred by the experience yes, but with his spirit unbroken. The boy had learned to trust that anger, and the man had never unlearned that brutal childhood lesson.

Riyo knew without being told that her response was critical. This moment was make or break. Either real trust would form and allow for the possibility of a deeper relationship than she’d anticipated feasible with the reclusive Knight, or their fragile affability would break, and they’d never be more than acquaintances with Ahsoka as their only common ground.

Ahsoka who couldn’t have known her Master’s history – Riyo was positive about that. The Togruta had respected and admired her Master, and had also admitted to enjoying a warmer, more equitable relationship with him than was typical of a Master/Padawan pair. She’d talked about Anakin constantly, and would not have been able to keep this to herself for long. She’d have told Riyo eventually – if only to have someone trusted yet impartial to help her process it.

“What are they saying?” She asked quietly, forcing herself to maintain eye contact and not check his neck for the scar that had granted them entry. If Anakin had wanted pity the whole galaxy would know the history of their Hero With No Fear.

His shoulders relaxed, tension flowing out of him. The quirk of his lips more genuine, “They’re singing the Legend of the Sky Brothers – Tatoo I and II.”

“Really? I’ve never heard about that one – but admittedly I’m no expert on Tatooine’s culture.”

He shook his head. “It’s the slave’s version. The more common one is that the suns are lovers who were separated by a vengeful god. That one says Tatooine used to be an ocean of their tears until it dried into the deserts as the doomed lovers lived out their eternal curse to chase each other across the sky but never unite.”

Behind them the epic poem stopped. The musicians calling for a vote on what came next. Riyo twisted in her seat to look before raising an eyebrow at Anakin.

“So short?” She asked.

“Nah. Superstition.” His smile was rueful. “It’s bad luck to sing the full story about the brothers in one sitting. Lest you join them in their walk across the sky.”

Her eyes widened. “Is that where your name comes from?”

He hummed an affirmation, wetting his throat with a generous swallow of ale. “That it is. Surnames typically indicate lineage, and slaves – just by virtue of the fact - are denied that. So we make our own.

“My mother used to tell me that story at night. She’d spread it out of course, but it was my favorite - hers too I think. And I used to always look at the stars and say that one day I’d be a pilot, and I’d be the first one to see them all.”

Riyo listened, quiet warmth furling in her chest as he spoke, knowing that something of the emotions she was feeling were showing on her face but not able to muster enough energy to care about the loss of her politician’s mask.

“So Sky Walker… Which one of you chose it?”

“She did. Said it suited me if I had dreams like that – I of course insisted that she share the name.”

“It does.” Riyo agreed. “I can’t imagine you being anything but a Skywalker.”

The music started again, the tempo upbeat and lively though the sounds made by the instruments were different than Riyo knew to be typical of Cantinas, particularly those in Hutt territory. Those sounds were sharp, metallic. These - round and almost mournful - would blend beautifully with nature. She could almost hear wind and sand. It was unlike anything she’d ever heard, beautiful and mysterious.

“Now what are they singing about?” She asked eagerly, wanting a mile now that he’d granted her the first inch.

Anakin threw his head back and laughed.

When their night came to an end, just a few hours before dawn, he didn’t take her back to _Dex’s Diner_. Instead, Anakin took her to a nearby train station. It would take her back to the Senate District where she’d catch a taxi to her apartment in 500 Republica.

They waited in comfortable silence for the next train to arrive, having found a new equilibrium. Riyo was feeling content – and sleepy. She stifled a yawn.

He chuckled lowly, nudging her gently with his elbow when the train pulled up and opened its doors.

Like others on the platform she waited for those already onboard to finish disembarking before falling in line. Just inside the doors, Riyo paused and turned back to look at Anakin, leaning casually against a buttress, arms crossed as he waited for the train to depart and to take her away.

“Anakin,” she started. He tilted his head to show he was listening as she nervously twisted the borrowed poncho between her fingers, struggling to give voice to her thoughts. Riyo knew she could be articulate - she had to be to serve as a Galactic Senator - but it had always been hard for her to voice her own feelings. She wasn’t sure why.

“I – I just wanted to say thank you. For trusting me.”

She saw his answering nod through the window as the doors closed between them.

That night, for the first time in a long time, Anakin slept soundly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Huttese Translations:**  
>  _Chompa_ \- Bite  
>  _Dopa-maskey_ \- Two-faced  
>  _Kark/Kriff_ \- Fuck (basically)  
>  _Nal_ \- Glorious  
>  _Nyee_ \- Boy  
>  _Schutta_ \- Bitch  
>  _Shag_ \- Slave  
>  _Songa_ \- Song  
>  _Uta-sha_ \- Your
> 
> _Nal Songa_ \- Glorious Song  
>  _Nyee, uta-sha shag chompa_ \- Boy, your slave bite  
>  _dopa-maskey_ sons of bitches - two-faced sons of bitches
> 
> I realize that not all of these are used in this chapter, but I _think_ that's all the Huttese I've used in the story so far... maybe.


	4. Honor Among Thieves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Rako Hardeen Arc is here. Need I say more?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... Actually yes, I do need to say more.  
> Normally I don't rehash/linger on episodes in my writing, because why? But this time we're sticking pretty close. For several reasons. Firstly, because this is a character study and the events of this arc have a **major** impact on one of our mains, and secondly because I will be making significant changes here soon and we need to prep for that.  
> Ground work, ya know?
> 
> Some dialogue and scenes from the _Clone Wars_ animated series S4:E15-16 have been directly borrowed for this chapter. I will say again that this is written purely for entertainment, no money is made and **no copyright infringement is intended.** Just playing in the sand box, certainly don't own it.

“If we sacrifice our code, even for victory, we may lose that which is most important: our honor.”  
\- Obi-Wan Kenobi

* * *

**20 BBY – Warehouse District, Coruscant**

“So, what’s the big rush?” Anakin asked as he and Obi-Wan made their way back to the small shuttle they’d taken to a mid level docks and warehouse borough well away from the temple district. Anakin had been enjoying the simple mission, reminiscent of life before the war, and was in no hurry to return to the temple.

“The Jedi Council has called an emergency meeting.”

Anakin sighed. “I can see it now; another long, boring debate.” And exactly the reason he’d rather _not_ go back at the moment, thank you very much.

“Would you rather they call you in to train younglings?” The Jedi Master asked with his usual brand of dry, prim humor, despite the worry line forming between his eyebrows.

Anakin chuckled, “Are you crazy?”

They sauntered forward in sync. A tremor in the Force warning the Knight of danger a second before precision blaster bolts rained on their position.

Not quite close enough to safely make for the ship, Anakin and Obi-Wan split and took cover behind adjacent stacks of storage crates.

“Any idea where that shot came from?” The Master asked, peering over his crates, trying to locate their assailant.

Anakin craned his neck in a similar fashion, looking for the threat. Tangled, contradictory readings from the Force throwing his concentration. Finally he spotted a figure on a nearby roof. “A sniper, there!” He pointed.

Obi-Wan followed his finger and nodded, shifting in his crouch. “Anakin, you cover the lower streets, flanking from the right, I’m going after _him_.”

They nodded to each other and drew their sabers, simultaneously breaking cover. Obi-Wan executed a series of Force-jumps to land on the roof with the sniper while Anakin skirted the perimeter from the right, closing the net to limit their assailant’s escape options.

Blaster shots zipped overhead as the sniper tried to keep Obi-Wan at bay - the sound spurring Anakin on. He ran parallel to the retreating figure on the roof, losing him as the sniper made a hard left, away from the street.

“I lost him!” Anakin commed, coming to a stop with his lightsaber drawn but extinguished, looking overhead. “Obi-Wan, do you have anything?”

A blaster shot sounded, familiar voice crying out in pain. Obi-Wan fell from the roof, his body crashing to the ground in front of his horrified former protégé.

“Obi-Wan!”

Anakin abandoned the pursuit - it wasn’t even a choice – dropping to his knees by the fallen Jedi.

“Obi-Wan,” He tried again. Reaching with the Force. He wasn’t a master Force healer by any means but he could help shore up his friends strength, keep him alive until Anakin could get him back to the temple, except… he felt nothing. Where moments before a life force had burned bright, now there was… nothing... but it felt _wrong_ , like the Force itself was trying to tell him that his friend was still alive, while still acknowledging the gaping absence where life _should_ be.

Anakin frantically checked for a pulse, for any sign of breath.

Nothing.

_No._

A numbing haze descended on the young Knight’s mind.

He could vaguely recall gathering the limp, cooling body in his arms and returning to the temple. Knew that at some point he’d stood in front of the Jedi Council and recited the story. But nothing seemed to penetrate the numbness that had spread over his mind like a blanket.

Nothing seemed real.

Only when he’d retuned to his quarters after the council had dismissed him, unmoving and staring at nothing, did a thought begin to carve away his apathy.

Satine.

Someone should tell her.

She had loved Obi-Wan since their youth. That entitled her to grief - but no one really knew the depth of their bond - the pacifist duchess and warrior monk. The Council certainly wouldn’t think that she had a right to first-hand knowledge regarding Obi-Wan. That she deserved to hear about it from someone who had _known_ and who cared and not from the impersonal Republic Casualty Roster. Which – as a leader of a neutral system – she might not even have access to.

Anakin sighed, debating between just going up to the communications room and getting it over with, or going after he’d spent some time in the ‘fresher and changed his robes. He wasn’t sure the Duchess would appreciate seeing Obi-Wan’s blood still smeared on the leather of his tabard.

Then again, Satine was anything but a delicate flower. As much revulsion as she might feel at the sight, Anakin acknowledging her and not delaying the news might be appreciated in a different way. If their roles were reversed Anakin would appreciate it.

He snatched his datapad from the couch, pinging Riyo a quick message that he’d be unreachable for an indeterminate time. She’d know why soon enough. A Council member would be briefing the Senate within the hour, was possibly already on their way. She might worry, but she wouldn’t pester, and right now that meant more than gold.

Raking his hands through his hair, Anakin sighed again, tossed his datapad back on the couch and unbuckled his utility belt and obi to throw off his tabards. He wouldn’t bother with a shower just yet, but he was _not_ going to traipse through the temple halls with Obi-Wan’s blood practically on display.

It was unfortunate that reaching Mandalore required more transmission power than a personal comlink was capable of. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to wait long – or talk to anyone on the way.

With no other delay imminently available, Anakin left his quarters and made his way to the south tower, head down.

In the first stroke of luck he’d had all day, no one stopped him on his way and the communications room was deserted. Licking dry lips he initiated a call to Sundari Palace and stood on the transmission projector.

As expected, an aid answered; the image of a blonde blue-eyed man wavering to life, with an inquiry.

“I am Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, and I need to speak with Duchess Kryze as a matter of urgency.”

“I’m afraid the Duchess is unavailable at the moment. You’ve called during Mandalore’s breakfast hour.”

Anakin was in no mood to trade barbed pleasantries. “Tell her my name and that it’s important. She’ll talk to me.”

The aide frowned in obvious disapproval but Anakin didn’t relent. Eventually the Mandalorian gave a very put-upon “Hold please.” And disappeared from view.

Anakin didn’t have to wait long. Soon enough a clearly concerned Satine Kryze stood in the transmission field.

“To what do I owe the occasion, Master Jedi?”

Anakin swallowed, bracing himself against the news he had to share.

“I’m afraid I must inform you that Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi passed into the Force this evening.” He said with a hollow voice. “His funeral will take place in two standard rotations if you would like to attend.”

Even through the warbling holo Anakin could see the tears gathering in the Duchess’s eyes. Her throat working to swallow them down and speak clearly.

To give her time to compose herself enough to respond, Anakin continued aimlessly. “I know Master Kenobi served an extended mission on Mandalore in his youth and considered you a friend. The Temple would be honored to host you.”

Obi-wan had considered her a great deal more than a friend, Anakin knew, but this transmission wasn’t nearly private enough for such candid speech.

“Thank you, Master Jedi.” She whispered, voice thick and wavering. “For informing me in a timely enough manner than I can make arrangements to attend his funeral.” She took a deep breath, voice firm when she continued. “I will be there.”

Anakin bowed shallowly. “I will ensure that a landing platform and shuttle to the Jedi Temple are prepared for your arrival.”

She gave a small nod of acknowledgement and cut the transmission without another word.

* * *

**20 BBY – Senate Building, Coruscant**

Riyo cracked her neck and stretched her back during the short break between daily briefings. The Jedi were next to give an update on any information deemed suitable for the Senate’s ears.

Not that many Senators were actually in attendance.

In the beginning of the war, these public briefings took place in the rotunda, but as the conflict dragged on fewer and fewer were interested in personal attendance, especially considering that all pertinent information would be included in a written brief that was automatically be pushed to every Senator’s office.

Riyo had noticed however that sometimes information given in the physical brief would be mysteriously missing from its datachip format.

Someone was pruning information.

And as much as she’d love to free up the time for other duties, she had determined that the insight gained was much too valuable to dismiss.

“They get longer and longer every day, don’t they?”

Riyo looked up at Padmé’s softly smiling face and spared a small smile of her own for her colleague. “They do indeed.”

“Sometimes it feels like this war will never end. And the cost just keeps escalating.”

Riyo nodded. They were losing Jedi and troopers everyday. That very moment the death toll was rising. Riyo checked the Casualty Roster first thing upon arriving at her office every morning. It helped keep her grounded in the grim reality of their situation instead of letting Coruscant’s false sense of security (just because it had been a thousand years since the last true battle at the Core world, didn’t mean it would be a thousand more before it saw war) lull her into complacency like it had so many.

The civilian cost was proving just as staggering. Their previous briefing had covered the alarming refugee rate, and the appalling lack of infrastructure, funding, or care available to these most vulnerable citizens, who had already lost everything.

The list continued. Everyday the problems staring down the Republic increased in number and severity.

“The war _will_ end. Take heart Padmé.”

The GAR had pushed the separatists from the Core and Inner Rim entirely, and had nearly cleared them out of the Mid Room. Not that Riyo had any delusions about how ugly the fight would be when the Outer Rim was all their adversary had to hold onto. She anticipated the sieges that were sure to come would be the longest and bloodiest of the entire war as the CIS clawed desperately for the survival of their movement.

The Nubian Senator looked doubtful, the turn of her mouth severe. “I’m just not sure how much more we can take.” She said, wandering back to her seat.

Riyo watched Padmé retreat, brow furrowed, before dismissing the troubled Senator from her thoughts and finally giving into curiosity and checking the message that had pinged on her datapad during an earlier discussion. Quickly inputting her decryption code, Riyo read Anakin’s brusque missive.

She didn’t need to be Force sensitive to know something was wrong. It wasnt uncommon for Anakin to be out of reach for indeterminate periods – he _was_ a wartime General – but it was out of character for him to warn her off in advance. Especially because she knew he was on Coruscant. Her fingers hovered over the reply, but backed off.

Sending the message in the first place had been a kindness. So she wouldn’t wonder why he’d ghosted. It would be best to wait for him to come to her.

Riyo listened intently as the Jedi representative took the stage, hoping to find out what was bothering Anakin so. Buried toward the end of the update was the metaphorical bomb. General Kenobi had been assassinated - on Courscant. They were hunting for the bounty hunter responsible.

Out of the corner of her eye, Riyo saw Padmé gasp, cover her mouth, and pull out her datapad. The young Pantoran couldn’t help but wonder if Anakin would respond to the Nubian Senator he so obviously had history with. The woman’s deepening frown and impatient shifting indicated otherwise.

Riyo looked back to the Jedi. It really wasn’t any of her business either way.

* * *

**20 BBY – Jedi Temple, Coruscant**

For Obi-Wan, Anakin stood outside the Temple as Satine’s shuttle touched down. The war was still going, so the Temple’s hanger and landing bays were unavailable to receive guests, even dignitaries arriving for a funeral.

Her face was drawn and haggard, limp hair pulled back with less care than usual. Mourning cloth draped heavily around her petite form.

Vaguely, Anakin wondered how anyone could look at her and not realize that she was mourning the man she loved.

They didn’t speak. He bowed shallowly and led her through the temple to the pyre chamber. Aside from the few Master’s currently home from the war, several politicians - including Padmé and Bail Organa - were also in attendance. Satine broke from him and went straight to Padmé, a sob breaking free the moment her friend’s arms encircled her.

Knights and Padawans ringed the chamber, hoods drawn for respect. Stepping into his place in the inner circle around Obi-Wan’s covered body, Anakin drew his own hood.

He didn’t hear Yoda’s obituary. Wasn’t aware of anything but the muffled sounds of tears echoing in the cavernous chamber and the ringing in his ears, growing louder.

Until fire consumed Obi-Wan’s body.

And with it the torpor that had taken his mind.

The ever-present darkness – fueled by his pain and hate – stepped fore.

* * *

**20 BBY – Office of the Supreme Chancellor, Coruscant**

“You look troubled, Anakin.”

Troubled. Sure. That was one way to put it.

Furious was a better way.

The need for vengeance pulsed hot in his veins. The fires of his rage stroked higher and higher first by the drunken, stupefied look on Rako Hardeen’s tattooed face, then by being assigned to guard duty when the worthless slime broke out of prison instead of hunting the bastard down like he should be doing.

You know what, why not? Let’s just go with troubled.

“How can they just expect me to just sit here, and do nothing, with Obi-Wan’s murderer on the loose?” He knew his voice was too rough and strident to be appropriate, but the Chancellor had never minded Anakin being honest about his feelings.

“It is possible that they do not trust you to control your feelings.”

Anakin seethed with fresh rage. “Hardeen killed my Master, my best friend. And now he’s escaping with Cad Bane and Moralo Eval, and the Jedi Council wont do anything about it!” He snarled, blood roaring in his ears.

The Chancellor – as cool as calm as ever – rose from his chair, “I have it from a reliable source that the fugitives were last headed towards Nal Hutta.

“You cannot deny your feelings, Anakin. They are what make you special. If you believe you can stop this plot against me, I trust you.”

Three simple words, but they meant so much to the Knight. It was interactions like this that made it hard for him to see the devious politician that Riyo saw when she looked at Palpatine.

“Thank you, Chancellor.” Was Anakin’s heartfelt response to being offered by the man what the Jedi had _never_ given him. “You wont regret this.” He vowed, turning away from the panoramic view and toward the door to the waiting area where his men were stationed.

“Rex.”

His Captain snapped to attention. ”Sir.”

“I need you and your men to continue guarding the Chancellor. I’ve received intel about the fugitives probable location. I’m going after them.”

“I can’t let you go alone sir.”

“Rex, I’ll be fine.”

“With all due respect sir, if Commander Tano were still here I wouldn’t have any objections. But she’s not, and you need someone to watch to watch your back.”

Anakin paused to weigh his options. He knew the source of Rex’s concern. One of the three fugitives was the Jedi Killer that had assassinated General Kenobi. The 501st worked too close with the 212th to not feel that loss. Moreover, they’d already lost a trusted commander before that _and_ had been subjected to a Jedi they couldn’t trust. Protecting Anakin was about more than him; it was about his legion’s security, their morale. Still though, the threat to the Chancellor was too valid to treat lightly. He _had_ to be protected. And Anakin would rather not bring ire down on his men for following his… reinterpretation of orders.

Again.

“I’m sorry Rex.” He concluded. “Not this time. Protect the Chancellor at all costs. I’ll be back soon. Hopefully with our fugitives in tow.” 

* * *

**20 BBY – Nal Hutta**

Anakin’s lip curled in distaste as he descended the shuttle’s ramp into the cesspool that was Nal Hutta. Not only was the entire planet literally a toxic bog these days, it was crawling with the lowlifes that _chose_ to make their living serving the whims of the Hutts.

He took a moment to gauge his surroundings before muttering, “If you want to find a lowlife, start at the saloon.” And heading toward the stilted mound where music and raucous laughter could be heard.

Anakin breezed passed a drunken trio of entertainers (the inebriated Pa’lowick hanging between two Twi’leks) and a set of Gamorrean guards.

Either they recognized his garb, or decided they didn’t like his expression, no matter the reason, two more Gamorreans blocked his way with their axes. He threw them into the bar. Disarming the one still conscious, using the Force to burry the blade in a wall.

The crowd cheered.

Drunkin’ sleemos.

“The fugitives are already gone.” The Ithorian bartender said before Anakin could even ask.

“All three of them were here?”

“Two came in, met the third.”

“When did they leave?” He demanded.

“Nothings free on Nal Hutta. Especially information.”

Anakin cut him off before he could continue, raising the Ithorian and blocking his airways. Squeezing to make his point. “I don’t have time for games.” He spoke slowly and deliberately, so the fool would understand.

Chocking and sputtering the barman complied. Sounding almost eager now to give up the information. “You just missed them.”

“Keep talking.” He encouraged, dark promise in his eyes.

“I heard one of them say they’d just bought a ship.”

Anakin held him off the floor, applying further pressure to guarantee nothing pertinent had been left out, then turned away, allowing the Ithorian to drop to the floor behind him.

The Bith who ran the shipyard proved moderately helpful.

“So you only gave them enough fuel to reach the nearest filling station on Orandia, which is owned by your brother.” A rare moment where greed and corruption served a higher purpose. He chuckled. “Well, that’s a nice little money-making scam.”

Anakin should be able to catch them now. However he couldn’t discount that they might steal another sip at Orandia to throw any pursuers off their trail.

He dashed to his starfighter.

Dropping into realspace, Anakin detached from the rings and made for the isolated fueling station owned by the Bith.

A freighter, just closing its gangway and beginning ascent caught his attention.

He needed to bring them down but not kill them instantly. He didn’t have proof that Hardeen was in the ship, just a feeling. He couldn’t just “accidently” shoot down the wrong ship on a hunch after he’d already taken liberties with his orders. He could find himself stripped of his rank as General – best-case scenario – or even Knight, if the Council was pissed enough.

So he harried them. Flying low overhead and maneuvering himself into their flight path. Unfortunately, his fighter was so small that it wasn’t having the desired affect. Their pilot was clearly irritated (that or he just sucked and that was why he was jerking all over the place), but still managed to break atmo.

Now irritated himself, and afraid of losing his quarry, Anakin arched up to get behind them. He should be able to take out their engines without completely destroying the ship.

Except that the freighter was apparently armed.

Because of course it was.

“R2!” He called, knowing that the astromech was already on it. Not that the starfighter actually had useful shields. The craft was too small for proper deflectors when they also needed shift shields for hyperspace travel, and particle shields atmospheric entry. It was a rather massive flaw in his opinion. Why would you build a fighter that couldn’t shield? Sienar Industries cold go suck bantha ass crack as far as he was concerned.

Scans beeped, indicating that the freighter was powering up its hyperdrive.

“R2, lock on their trajectory!” Anakin quickly hooked into the rings.

A mistake.

It was a trap. They fired on the rings and jumped away.

Alarms blared in the cockpit, the rings hadn’t sustained too much damage but the fighter’s navi-computer was malfunctioning.

“No, no, no.” Anakin muttered, desperately rerouting systems and trying to regain control. Inertial dampeners had also suffered. They needed to be back to full strength before he could afford jump.

A visible current of energy spread through the console, sparking dangerously. Anakin’s breath caught in his throat as more systems malfunctioned and the rings activated on their own.

Anakin was knocked cold by G-forces before he could even see the stars stretch, the damaged fighter launching toward an unknown destination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was both shorter and more generic than I prefer, but as I said above, it was necessary to set up what happens next. Hope it wasnt too painful a read.  
> [](https://postimages.org/)


	5. Aurora

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin runs into someone unexpected, and asks Riyo for a favor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *heavy sigh* Just read _Rogue Planet_.  
> Not that I don't make some changes - because I do - but it'll really help with things like Aurora, the Potentium, Ke Daiv, etc...

“You have power over your mind - not outside events. Realize this and you will find strength.”  
\- Marcus Aureliu

* * *

**20 BBY – Zonoma Sekot, Unknown Regions**

It took Anakin a minute to realize that the ferocious pounding in his head – which was making thinking exceptionally difficult – meant that he was alive. The damaged inertial dampeners apparently functional enough to not leave him as nothing but a wet smear in the cockpit of his fighter.

He groaned; rolling over made his head spin and stomach rebel. Gasping, he heaved and retched off the side of the bed he was in, the movement igniting fire in his ribs. Anakin didn’t know how long he lay there, conscious but adrift in pain, before carefully – very carefully – pulling himself upright.

He waited for the spinning to slow down before opening his eyes. His first real impression of the room was familiarity. He’d been here before… but not recently enough for the memory to jump out at him.

He pushed the thought back to examine later. No immediate sense of danger popped out. The Force felt… _alive_ , vibrant. Something about that was familiar too, but he really couldn’t focus enough to care too much. He felt safe, cradled in gentle hands, and that was what mattered. He’d worry about where he was and getting back to Coruscant after he’d seen the extent of the damage his body had sustained.

After a painful shuffle to the refresher, Anakin took a deep breath and looked in the mirror. Aside from the trickle of blood from his nose, his head looked okay (though it certainly didn’t feel it), his torso however was heavily wrapped. Wincing he began to unwrap the cloth, suspecting broken ribs with each painful inhale. A suspicion confirmed by the deep bruising painting his torso in a large X, outlined with stitches; a perfect impression of his harness, rendered in black, purple, and red.

“You were lucky.” A young voice said. “The blood vessels in your brain were swollen… they almost popped.”

Anakin sucked in a sharp – agonizing – breath, as he looked at his twelve-year-old self, inexplicably standing beside him. “What the…”

Young Anakin cocked his head, expression caught somewhere between amusement and hurt. “You don’t remember me?”

The smell of fire, a dozen seed-partners clambering all over him, lamina furniture, Obi-Wan, breakfast on a veranda, a distinctive flaming red and purple pinwheel in the stars. Zonoma Sekot.

“Sekot…” he whispered, amazed.

Sekot – still wearing Anakin’s younger face – smiled broadly. “Welcome back friend.”

* * *

-< 1 Month Later >-

* * *

**20 BBY - Coruscant**

Riyo sank into the icy water of her acclimation bath, sighing in relief. The fever under her skin from the rather drastic difference between Pantora’s winter and Coruscant’s ever-temperate weather dimming. The oils and salts oozing from the medicinal ball dropped into the water soothing her skin. Ever so slowly, the water began to warm. She began to sweat but stayed in the water, needing her blood to thin and pores to open. Riyo couldn’t afford to pass out from heat exhaustion on the Senate floor.

Where yet more prejudice and discrimination was being disguised as “safety measures,” and even _more_ emergency powers were being given to the Supreme Chancellor. Not to mention the sudden breath in the war. More than just a failed attempt to assassinate Palpatine, something else was at work, another sinister plot in the making. Grievous had been too quiet; a phenomenon that had _never_ boded well.

The Assembly – more and more concerned for the future of Pantora post-war – had recalled Riyo suddenly, to attend their next session, before sending her off back to Coruscant. They weren’t ready to give up on the Republic – yet – but they wanted her to ease back from participation in several committees that Pantora had either helped found or strongly supported. A slow, subtle withdrawal in their presence was now in effect. Which also meant informing a few select Senators from the Loyalist Committee that Pantora would be abstaining from their new delegation. Despite the fact that what said delegation stood for – pressuring the Chancellor to give-up his emergency powers at the end of the war – was something Pantora fervently agreed with.

Riyo herself had been instrumental in that decision. The more she watched the Supreme Chancellor, the more she saw a master manipulator and the less she trusted him. She believed that Bail Organa saw the same things she did, but Padmé was adamant otherwise. Like Anakin had at _Nal Songa_ , the Nubian Senator continued to insist that the Chancellor was a good man who would hear and concede to their concerns. Riyo respectfully disagreed. The Nubian was seeing only what she wanted to of her former mentor, and the Pantoran couldn’t trust him to not view genuine concern for democracy’s survival as sedition. Thankfully, the Chairman had heeded her concerns, and the Assembly had been willing enough to vote for caution.

The Republic hadn’t been particularly good at taking care of it’s own lately. It hadn’t escaped Pantora that the planets struggling the most to get much-needed help were non-human. While worlds like Naboo, Alderaan, and Chandrilla continued with little to no change in their daily lives, worlds like Ryloth, Rodia, Pantora, and Malastare had all needed help that was slow to come, if it came at all.

Riyo and a Jedi Padawan alongside the Chairman and his son had handled the Trade Federation’s blockade and saved the moon from becoming a warzone. _Not_ the Republic - a fact that hadn’t been forgotten by its people or representatives. Perhaps human worlds could afford idealism… non-human worlds were slowly coming around to the realization that they certainly couldn’t.

The water had now heated to an almost intolerable degree. Her skin was flushed a deep indigo, sweating profusely. But the cocktail of herbs, oils, and salts was working. An hour a day for three to four days and she’d be perfectly comfortable in Coruscant’s atmosphere. Stronger acclimation drugs existed, in the form of injections, but their side effects encouraged Riyo to use them sparingly, and only when absolutely necessary.

Her datapad pinged.

Riyo opened her eyes, head lulling to the side to eye the pad near her head. An urgent message code greeted her. From a familiar source. She sat up sharply, sending water over the edge of the tub, and grabbed the pad.

Riyo hadn’t heard from Anakin since he went dark a month previous. Though rumors suggested he was missing in action, possibly kidnapped by Separatists or even killed. She didn’t know how true any of that was, but seeing a clearly concerned Obi-Wan (who was decidedly _not_ dead) seeking out Padmé suggested at least some truth to the first. She didn’t know details; if they’d been made available to the Chancellor he’d chosen not to share. Certainly nothing had been reported to the Senate.

The message was simple. A time and place.

She’d be there.

* * *

Anakin paced nervously in the shadows between alleys as he waited for Riyo. He couldn’t shake the fear that she wouldn’t come. Or that she’d balk when he asked for no small favor after disappearing for weeks at a time.

He reminded himself again that he didn’t owe her anything. Explanations or otherwise.

This situation would be another example of her character, another opportunity for him to see what kind of person she was. Another test.

He snarled at himself.

A rather significant part of his mind wishing he’d just stayed on Zonoma Sekot. Where the Force was balanced and _alive_ in a way it was nowhere else. Where he could indulge his love of ships and creation. Where he could allow himself to recognize the many natures of the Force without being told which were the “right” ones.

Arrogance at it’s finest.

He’d once held the Jedi Order revered… but those days were long since over. And even when they hadn’t been, he’d still been unsure of his place among them. Well aware that they didn’t actually want him – his power certainly, that was why they put up with him - but not the boy. It was a package deal they’d reluctantly accepted. They had dealt with him because he had something they wanted, but they feared him too. Never tried to understand, never really tried to help.

The Jedi, he’d come to realize, were a cult. And Anakin was the rich kid who could never be sure if his friends actually cared about him, or were just around for his money.

It was exhausting.

His respect for the Order had declined, slowly but surely, until he saw little but self-righteous tools of a corrupt government, whose eyes were blind, and ears deaf to the truth of the Force. It was so much more than they realized. But anything that wasn’t strictly allowed by their ridiculous code was considered “dark” not because it was, but because every member of the Order – going back generations – had been brainwashed from infancy to believe that the galaxy really was that simple.

Except him. He was an aberration they didn’t know how to handle.

Something _unnatural_ they needed to control.

He’d have had more respect for them if they had actually stuck to their guns and maintained the supposedly set boundaries around him, punished him when he’d broken rules as a child (his mother certainly had done both) and if they’d actually stood by their beliefs instead of bending them when it was convenient and then not even admitting their own faults or double standards.

He looked up sharply at the scuff of a boot.

Riyo, once again wearing the mix-matched set of trousers and poncho salvaged from his Padawan days (and that he hadn’t been able to wear since he was fourteen), with lavender hair falling from its simple plait, looked around surreptitiously before crossing the pedestrian street in his direction.

Anakin blinked in surprise when he realized that she’d faked her facial markings. Expertly applied make-up hid the familiar tattoos on her cheeks, dye instead giving her three markings on her brow in a partial sunburst and a vertical line down her chin.

Clever.

Every Pantoran had unique markings tattooed on their faces at a relatively young age. He wasn’t sure exactly when, or what all it meant. All he knew was that it was an individual expression intended to honor family heritage and ancestry. And that it was also probably tied to the moon goddess somehow.

No matter, as the markings were unique and personal they were also easy identifiers. It was smart of Riyo to fake a set. Especially if she didn’t want any lower-level activities tied to her more official presence on Coruscant.

He stepped partially out of the shadows, knowing his hooded form would draw her attention. Sure enough, she made her way toward him.

Anakin stepped back into the alley, luring her into the shadows with him. The beast inside preening pleased when she didn’t hesitate to follow him.

He held a finger to his lips, waiting for her to nod, then headed off down the alley, weaving his way through the crowded underbelly of Coruscant until he reached his destination. An old “abandoned” warehouse. One of many a certain “friend” – who happened to owe Anakin several favors (well… _had_ owed anyway) - illegally converted to hangers. All intended to hide smuggling ships doing their shady business in the Republic’s capitol.

Not that Anakin actually cared about that. Smuggling was a time-honored tradition as far as he was concerned. And something that would never change. Besides, it wasn’t all bad. He himself had hired a pirate in the past to smuggle needed supplies to planets pushing back against the CIS.

Silence reigned for a moment after the hiss and slide of the hydraulic door closing behind them. Anakin found himself at a loss for words. What was he supposed to say? _Hey, I know we haven’t talked in ages but I need a really big – and not entirely legal – favor?_ Sure. That would go over well. Problem was, that was _exactly_ what he needed.

Thankfully Riyo took it upon herself to break the ice, as she had in their early transmissions, and more recently at _Nal Songa_. “It’s nice to know that the rumors of your demise were greatly exaggerated.”

Anakin rubbed his neck sheepishly, uncomfortable with the entire shit-storm that had led to his dropping off the grid – however unintentionally – and worrying the few people who actually gave a damn about _Anakin_ instead of General Skywalker.

The sad part about that was that he could only think of three people - all politicians - to whom that would apply. The Temple was a cold place for Anakin these days, with his Padawan gone and Master dead.

He cleared his throat, shoving the grief away.

Sekot… didn’t understand grief. Not really. He was pure and wise in the way of a child, despite the fact that he was literally the collective consciousness of a planet. To him, death wasn’t an ending the way most saw it. It was a return to the Potentium – the Force through which all life came and from which one could be reborn. A theory shunned by the Order, who believed that upon death, one lost all individuality, everything that made a person who they were. Oh sure, one “joins the Force” but as nothing in their view, despite Sekot’s existence being literal _living_ proof that at least some of said theory held truth.

“My fighter was damaged. I was lucky to end up stranded with an old friend who helped me with a ship. It just… took some time.”

Riyo raised an eyebrow at the patchwork of tarps covering a ship that was most likely – as far as she could tell - either a light freighter or a personal yacht, based on its size.

Anakin couldn’t help but smile.

Like the _Jabitha_ before her, _Aurora_ was _magnificent_. Perhaps even more so. The Zonamans – already having unparalleled hyperdrive technology – had turned their creative genius toward stealth. And as an adult, Anakin had a far better understanding of ships, and of himself, leading to a vessel that was entirely unique, and personalized to him. The frames she’d grown around weren’t the stock frames used for previous clients, no, these had been designed by Anakin himself. He stayed in them as Aurora had grown and formed around them, listening to both Anakin and Sekot to become exactly what was needed.

It had taken significantly more time than the first go around a decade previous. Largely because this time Anakin knew the process, and knew some of the customizations he wanted had to be done in advance, before the technology was interfaced with the ship and the two became one. But also because after he’d expressed his concerns about Aurora’s welfare to Sekot, the entity had then insisted that ship and pilot spend more than the previously required forty-eight hours together.

Sekotan ships have a symbiotic relationship with their pilots their whole lives. From the moment seed-partners choose a pilot they have a certain need for proximity. This is especially true after the forging and annealing. While possessing potential for a certain self-awareness and intelligence, they couldn’t really think on their own. For that, they were dependent on their pilot. Especially in the earliest days of their lives after bonding and shaping. If Anakin had drifted from Aurora then, she would have grown confused, and died without the support of his thinking processes to guide her.

Knowing that to keep her safe, he’d have to keep her hidden and secret, he’d spent over a week living inside her to solidify their bond. He still worried she’d grow lonely and despondent during the long months he knew she’d spend docked, but she’d survive his absence, and that was what mattered.

“I see.” Riyo replied. “Is there a particular reason you wanted to meet with me?” The ‘here’ went unspoken, but the Pantoran’s curious gaze made it clear enough.

“Yeah, I uh…” He chuckled humorlessly. “I was wondering if I could ask you for a favor.”

She tilted her head. “Oh?”

Feeling self-conscious, Anakin elaborated. “I can’t store my ship somewhere more secure because then I’d have to register it, and I’d really prefer it not be common knowledge that I have a Sekotan ship.”

Riyo had never heard of a Sekotan ship before and couldn’t quite fathom why that was so significant, but didn’t question.

“I’ve called in some favors to dock her here and have a security system set up, but I need someone who’ll be around more to monitor it.” He winced.

Riyo nodded to show she understood and eyed the covered ship as she thought. He wanted her to be notified in the event of a security breach, because he would likely be at war and unable to receive said notification much less respond. The real question being asked was if she was willing to risk being tied to an unregistered ship in an illegal dock. Getting caught would have negative ramifications on her career… however, her diminishing presence in the Senate ought to lessen the scrutiny she was under, and thus lessen the risk as well.

She looked between a hopeful Anakin and the covered ship, weighing her options; balancing the potential pitfalls against the not insignificant trust Anakin was offering her.

If it were anyone else asking her this she’d wonder if they were setting her up. But Anakin wasn’t like that. He wouldn’t do that. He was honest in a way most of her associates couldn’t fathom.

In the end, she decided that Anakin’s trust was more significant than the small risk an encrypted security feed being tied to her personal datapad exposed her to.

“I don’t mind monitoring the security for you, but I don’t live on Coruscant all year either. I spend a total of five to six months on Pantora a year.” She looked him in the eye to make sure he understood. “I may not be able to immediately respond to a breach.”

“I honestly don’t expect it to breached, I just want someone aware. You don’t have to do anything, even if something does happen, I’d just feel better if I knew someone would be aware, that’s it.”

“Okay.” Riyo murmured, taking him in, feeling a tension she hadn’t even been aware of falling away at the sight of Anakin standing alive and healthy before her.

“You shouldn’t listen to rumors like that.”

She grinned sardonically. “You’re aware of them, then.”

“I’ve called in a lot a favors today. Of course, you’re the only one that didn’t actually owe me anything, but… they all said rumor had it I’d died.”

Riyo looked away, suddenly needing to change the topic. She cleared her throat and tried for levity. “So, do I get to see this mysterious ship I’ll be guarding, or no?”

Anakin brightened instantly, looking for the entire galaxy like a young boy anticipating his lifeday celebrations. Riyo couldn’t help but smile in response, especially when – with a dramatic flourish - Anakin used the Force to throw the patchwork tarp off the ship.

Elegant, organic lines reminded Riyo of a bird of prey. She stepped closer; admiring the surface that was like nothing she’d ever seen before. It reminded her of oil, dark, but iridescent, showing blues, greens, purples, and reds beneath the black surface. However, instead of reflecting light, it almost seemed to absorb it.

Anakin moved up beside her, smile wide as he stroked the hull like one would a beloved a pet. “Magnificent, isn’t she?” He asked, wonder clear in his voice.

“She is,” Riyo affirmed, despite not having seen inside yet. The exterior was already like nothing she’d ever seen before, and Riyo was no longer questioning why he’d desire to this ship secret. “What’s this material? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Anakin’s broad grin turned predatory. “It absorbs radar energy.”

Riyo gasped, understanding the implications instantly. “It doesn’t show up on scanners.”

“It doesn’t show up on scanners.” He echoed. “Which means tracking missiles and torpedoes can’t lock on. She’d have to be painted by a laser target to guide them in, but she also has a diffuse light reflection, which makes her harder to spot with the naked eye.”

“Especially in the black, where there are fewer incident rays because of a lack of atmosphere.”

“Exactly. She’s my stealthy lady. No guns though, unfortunately. Zonamans typically build interstellar yachts for especially rich, very exclusive clientele, not warships.”

Riyo raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Do they normally include stealth tech?”

He chuckled. “Force no. They actually stopped producing ships for off-worlders a decade ago. And they were always picky about what they shared with outsiders even before.”

“But not you?”

“We had a mission there when I was twelve, made friends.” Anakin shrugged “They’re cautious but it’s a generous planet.” He laughed as though at an inside joke, but shook his head at her questioning glance and didn’t elaborate further.

“Can I see inside?” She was endlessly curious about what clearly high-end shipmakers had done with what she guessed to be a made-to-order vessel for a Jedi Knight and General.

Or perhaps they’d just made it for Anakin.

Either way, as far as Riyo could tell, the craftsmanship was unparalleled, especially for the speed with which it was produced. She was eager to see more.

“Sure, I’ll introduce you.”

Riyo rolled her eyes at his cheek and followed the Knight around aft.

A ramp lowered as they approached, almost as though the ship was responding to them on it’s own. That was an incredible feat of engineering. Anakin was looking at the ship as a parent would when pleased and proud of their child.

Curiouser and curiouser.

They stepped inside the empty, curved cargo hold. The colors of the walls inside were brighter than the hull, but were the same iridescent, organically flowing spectrum just without the smoky matte overlay, glowing from within.

Again, ostensibly of its own accord, the ship lowered another ramp; portioning from the ceiling it arched to follow the wall. With eyebrows high, Riyo again followed Anakin up into a short hallway. On the right there was a closed, standard sized door, a few paces ahead on the left, a larger doorway angled toward the interior, a quick peak inside revealing a med-bay. Quickly, the walls fell away and opened into the spacious living quarters. Clearly designed for minimal passengers the layout resembled a studio apartment more than anything. The ‘fresher was closed off and another angled doublewide door revealed a comfortably sized bedroom. A kitchen with an island and three stools on one side to separate it from the den, that had artfully arranged acceleration couches and a low table, with plenty of space to move about despite the furnishings.

“It’s beautiful Anakin.” She complimented sincerely, taking in the colorful luminescent walls, tasteful creams and what looked like it might be actual _wood_ on the table and island.

She couldn’t even begin to imagine how expensive a ship like this would be.

Ahead of her, Anakin was practically vibrating with excitement. Clearly enthused to show her the ship, apparently unable to verbally respond to her compliment and practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as she caught up to him.

Past the living quarters was another corridor (that she suspected could be blocked off by a cleverly hidden blast door), with a half ‘fresher on one side and lockers on the other, immediately followed by two more closed doors and terminating at the bridge.

Riyo stopped in her tracks, sucking in a surprised breath. The ceiling curved down, well beyond the piloting consoles, angled lower than the bridge, and consisted almost entirely of treated, double-walled transparasteel. While the view of the jimmied hanger was somewhat depressing, Riyo had no doubt that in flight it would be absolutely breathtaking. The pilot and co-pilot each had their own console, the space between open.

Anakin quickly turned in the gap between consoles and descended an inlaid ladder, disappearing from view. Riyo approached more cautiously, peering down past the console where the transparasteel arched gracefully as though into a beak. Nestled amongst a pile of pillows and blankets, Anakin grinned up at her gamely.

Riyo laughed at the childish enthusiasm exuded by the Jedi Knight. “Is that a nest?”

“It was supposed to be a lounge area, but I like it better like this. There actually are acceleration couches under here though, believe it or not.”

She snorted, looking at the relatively even (if puffy with pillows) surface he was lounging on. “I do not.”

He laughed freely, patting the space beside him. “Come on, I wanna show you something.”

Riyo looked at her dirtied boots, then at the colorful linens of his nest, and nibbled her lip nervously. She didn’t want to dirty them… not that Anakin had seemed to pay any mind to his boots, but it was his ship. He could do what he wanted.

“I have a scrubber, it’s fine.” He said, recognizing the source of her reticence.

Taking him at his word, she descended the ladder halfway and dropped into the nest, giggling as the pillows and blankets puffed up with her landing. It really was quite comfortable she noted, gazing lazily out the expansive windows.

The mound shifted as Anakin wiggled closer. “Give me your hand.” He said, holding out his ungloved left hand.

Riyo acquiesced without question, watching in mild curiosity as he took it in his own, and softly laid it against the oddly warm, colorful partial wall she’d just climbed down, holding it flat to the surface.

The “wall” gave way, their joined hands sinking into the wrist.

Riyo gasped, looking at Anakin with wide, surprised eyes as she felt a presence… a _mind_ … brush against her own.

“Say hello to Aurora,” He murmured, watching her intently.

 _Aurora_. The ship. It was… alive.

Riyo’s jaw dropped at the realization. Several cultures had integrated organic forms with technology – the Gungans in particular were famous for such combinations – it wasn’t a new concept to the galaxy. But she’d never heard of integrated interstellar ships – the Zonamans (whoever they were) had clearly taken it to a whole new level. While some manufacture vessels from organic matter, said ships themselves didn’t even have base sentience, weren’t _alive_ like the mind brushing hers indicated Aurora to be.

Riyo twisted and shifted forward on her knees, eagerly pressing her other hand to the ship – to Aurora. “This is incredible.” She whispered in awe. “Hello, Aurora.”

Riyo wondered if the ship was picking up more from her than she was of it. It felt… curious, but she also got the sense that it was… pleased about something. She had the sense of a whole conversation going on around her, which she could almost hear the whispers of but couldn’t hope to understand.

Anakin.

Of course. It made sense that he’d have a strong bond with the ship. If it had been made especially for him the way she thought it had, then there must be some process by which the conscious organic source and the individual are paired.

She couldn’t help but wonder who had chosen who.

An almost smug satisfaction brushed by her mind. Anakin laughed, looking sideways at Riyo with twinkling eyes.

“Short version? She chose me.” He answered her unspoken question with a smile. Confirming to Riyo that Aurora had a better handle on her than the Pantoran did the ship.

And that was that then, wasn’t it? Of course Riyo would guard the karking ship. Aurora was intelligent and self-aware, like nothing the Senator had ever seen. Even if she hadn’t already agreed and were still cautious on the notion, the knowledge that said ship was alive in some way would have sealed the deal.

No wonder Anakin worried.

“There’s more to show you.”

Riyo’s hands were released, her sense of Aurora disappearing, before the wall fell away. Anakin rolled into the dark space without hesitating. Riyo sighed and followed. They didn’t spend long in the dark space. Anakin quickly finding her hand and guiding her out, where they were met with a long set of irate beeps and chirps from Anakin’s blue and white astromech, who was working on the exposed guts of a wall panel.

R2-D2, if she was remembering Ahsoka’s stories correctly. The Togruta had always had a particular blend of fondness and exasperation in her voice when stories involving her Master’s droid had popped up.

Riyo recalled seeing him on Orto Plutonia, but she hadn’t interacted with him then, just Padmé’s protocol droid.

Anakin sighed. The fond exasperation so similar to Ahsoka’s that Riyo was at once humored by the resemblance and pained by the reminder of her lost friend.

“It’s fine R2. I’m showing Riyo around because she’s going to look after Aurora for us when we’re out on missions.”

More beeps that she couldn’t understand.

Anakin rolled his eyes to the heavens as though asking a deity for strength. “We can trust her, R2. I promise. She’s a friend.”

Riyo chuckled, smothering the sound with a hand across her mouth at a Jedi Knight, General, and recognized war hero, being essentially reamed out by his droid.

“I know Aurora gets lonely, Riyo will keep her company while we’re gone.” He looked over his shoulder and mouthed ‘you don’t have to’.

Clearing her throat and smothering more giggles, Riyo stepped around Anakin so she’d have a clear look at the concerned droid. “I’ll take good care of Aurora, R2. You have my word.”

Silence. Then the droid swiveled his dome and went back to his work with nothing further to say.

“He’s working on the communications panels. We’ll have a pretty sophisticated system once it’s set up.” Anakin then gestured further in, “and that’s my training area.”

Riyo stepped forward. The floor was overlaid with mats, swirling together like puzzle pieces. She bounced on her toes, feeling the give, looking at the circular walls where he’d hung a few different training staves of various sizes.

“This ship was made just for you, wasn’t it?” She said, turning to look at the Knight. Wanting confirmation of her theory.

The Jedi shrugged sheepishly, an adorable flush spreading across his cheeks as he looked away, practically scuffing his feet like an embarrassed young boy. “The Zonamans are specialist shipmakers.”

“Were,” she smirked, recalling what he’d said about them stopping production for outsiders.

He shrugged again. “They’ve never been fond of clients taking with them that which is special to Zonoma Sekot, but they love what they do, and they are very good friends… when they want to be.”

She nodded and looked around some more. “Is the security system set up already or do you need help?”

“It’s set up, I just need to program you in.”

“Okay.”

They stood in companionable silence, taking each other in. They both knew that it was time. She needed to return to the Senate, and he to the Temple, but neither made an effort to move or break the atmosphere between them.

An uncomfortable thought rose, unbidden, in Riyo’s head. A thought she’d tried to banish since the first time she’d seen Obi-Wan alive, visiting Padmé, after the announcement of his death.

She looked away from him, clearing her throat. She didn’t want to ask, but she had to. “Have you been to the Temple yet?”

The small smile he’d worn while observing her vanished. “No. I needed to get Aurora set up first.”

She licked her lips, grimacing. It was what she’d expected, but not what she wanted to hear because it meant _she_ had to tell him. Had to warn him. No matter what it meant she couldn’t let him walk into the Temple ignorant. He’d be blindsided either way, but with only herself and R2 as witnesses perhaps his dignity would be spared.

“Then there’s something you may not know.” Riyo walked back over to him, placing her hands softly on his arms, and making sure to look him firmly in the eye. She’d seen his temper flare, and she’d learned at _Nal Songa_ that the best way to weather the tempest was to be an anchor for him. Anakin had immediately responded to her steadfastness in the past by calming himself.

“Obi-Wan didn’t die… it was a part of some plot to foil an assassination attempt against the Chancellor.” Riyo looked deep into disbelieving blue. “He’s alive, Anakin. Alive and well. I’ve seen him.”

Anakin made a sound like a wounded animal, low in his throat and intelligible. He tried to turn from her, to hide his pain. She held firm, fingers digging into his arms.

“Anakin, I…” Riyo trailed off, at a loss for words. What was she supposed to say? If her instincts were right, Anakin had been more than just lied to; he’d been used. By someone he cared for greatly. She couldn’t imagine how that would feel.

“They lied to me…”

Tears welled in her eyes as she searched his. So obviously hurt and confused, trying to understand.

Without thinking she pushed up onto her toes and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He was stiff beneath her, surprised at the gesture, and then slowly, one muscle at a time, he relaxed. Eventually, he raised his own arms and embraced her in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have broken the touch barrier! A proper hug instead of basic arm touches.  
> It's progress people.  
> Also, Aurora.  
> [](https://postimg.cc/CBBMLZdb)  
>  A Visual Guide for Aurora... hope it helps. Like the Nubian models, our lady is all curves, not sharp edges. Hopefully this and looking at some of the Nubian yachts should give you a pretty good mental image of Aurora.


	6. Confrontations and Recollections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin returns to the Temple life, Riyo makes a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So according to my outline (subject to change with no notice) we are about one-third(ish) of the way through this story.

“Be careful what you tolerate. You are teaching people how to treat you.”  
\- Maria Lloyd

* * *

**20 BBY - Coruscant**

It was probably for the best that Obi-Wan wasn’t at the Temple when Anakin sauntered back in. He wasn’t sure he could handle the Council’s scornful interrogation and endless rebuke as well as a confrontation with his old Master. His holo being present for Anakin’s debrief was painful enough. He couldn’t even look at him. The bone crushing relief he felt at seeing proof that Obi-Wan was alive somewhere, and the heart-stabbing pain of betrayal battling it out. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed to contain it.

R2 was then instantly confiscated for some top-secret mission by a too-smug Windu, who – almost gleefully, the bastard – had then informed the young Knight that he was on crèche duty until the Republic Strategy Conference on Carida as punishment. They couldn’t afford to have him out of the game for too long – not only was he one of their most prolific generals, other Jedi were hesitant to take command of the 501st after what had happened to Krell.

Anakin perhaps shouldn’t be proud of that, but he couldn’t deny being pleased that they were without a doubt _his_ legion.

Shoving his conflicted thoughts and emotions behind strong shields, he sighed and took a last breath before reporting to the Crèche Master.

* * *

Riyo sighed and rubbed her temples, trying to ease the piercing headache that always seemed to accompany an interaction with Orn Free Ta. She really couldn’t decide if he was a master at dissembling, or if he really was just that useless.

As much as she couldn’t dismiss the former, Riyo leaned _heavily_ toward the latter.

Not that that made him any less dangerous - especially not as a tool in the hands of the Chancellor. He was unfortunately well positioned. And like Palpatine had at the time he became Chancellor, Ryloth’s struggles gave the odious man a strong sympathy vote amongst their colleagues. The easily manipulated Twi’lek was leveraging his influence for yet more planetary oversight powers to the Chancellor.

To prevent another Ryloth situation from occurring, of course.

At this rate the democracy they were fighting for would be nothing but a hollow puppets show long before the war actually ended, despite the best efforts of the Loyalist Committee and their Delegation of the 2,000.

Riyo snorted at the thought. No matter how well meaning, all their actions were accomplishing – as far as Riyo could see anyway – was to paint targets on their own heads. Mysterious disappearances of people who were perhaps a bit _too_ outspoken against the Supreme Chancellor (whose position ought to be little more than ornamental) had begun to be whispered about in certain circles. Unfortunately not the circles most Senators actually listened to, as most of them were from affluence that the average Republic citizen had only seen in holodramas. They didn’t understand the struggles of the people they represented. And even if they had at one point, a lack of term limits and the tendency to stick with the devil one knew meant it had been so long since they’d lived like regular citizens, they didn’t actually have a clue and/or didn’t care beyond preserving their own hides. Or buying the latest trends made with devilishly expensive Umabaran shimmersilk.

It was enough to make one sick.

Riyo still believed in democracy, the rampant corruption hadn’t soured her on the core principle – after all, wherever people were corruption would be also, no system could weed that out entirely - but the Republic needed to change, and she prayed to the goddess that there was a way back for them from the road they were traveling.

A chime from one of the datapads on her desk was met with a groan. She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes and rubbed. The day had been long, the sun long set and her stomach hollow with hunger. Riyo was eager for rest. To relax in her apartment – sans headdress – and let her mind slip away.

Nothing for it.

With another sigh, Riyo fished through the mess on her desk, in search of the pad in question. Smiling when she unlocked her personal pad and saw the message was from Anakin. A closed file beneath the message that read: _This is why they should never put me in charge of the youngling’s meditation_.

Quirking a brow, Riyo opened the file and watched as a Rodian youngling – very close to the optical sensor – tilted his head and moved the pad to and fro, a chorus of giggles and shrieks audible in the background. The Rodian youngling turned, the image moving abruptly to show a tilted view of several younglings climbing on Anakin, sitting cross-legged on the ground, who then shouts and falls over dramatically, as though overpowered, to the gaggle of toddlers obvious delight. The image stops and starts over again, the short holo replaying until she closed the file.

Still smiling, Riyo looked around her office, and decided that there was nothing left for her to do that couldn’t wait until tomorrow.

* * *

**20 BBY – Space Station Valor, Carida**

“Anakin.”

The young Knight stopped, refusing to turn his head to look at the Jedi Master. “Master.”

Obi-Wan sighed, “We need to talk.”

Anakin ground his teeth. Obviously, he agreed, he just wasn’t sure about them “talking” in a space station that held every general and admiral that could be spared from both the Army and Navy. He still wasn’t entirely sure how he’d react to this conversation, and he didn’t relish the idea of an unpredictable outcome in a place _this_ concentrated with people he had to work with.

Anakin wasn’t quite the hotheaded youth he had been only two short years ago. War had seen to that. He no longer felt the driving need to prove himself. The accomplishments he’d achieved had shown his worth to the Jedi Council – not that they acknowledged it – and was why he hadn’t actually been too upset by being assigned Crèche duty. Before he would have felt… threatened almost, by being given such a demeaning post. Now however it had been a wonderful way to ease back into the Temple. The younglings let him breathe a bit before he had to return to the crush of war.

It helped that he was somehow already a legend among them and got to bask in the warmth of appreciation and show off.

Instructively, of course.

As he had told Windu before, his showing off was always instructive.

None of that however, had made him any less prone to sudden and overpowering swells of emotion. Anakin often felt like he was being tossed about by the storms in his own mind. He just… couldn’t disassociate the way Jedi were meant to. He didn’t know how. For all their talk of “letting go” no one had actually managed to explain what that meant in a way he could understand. Which only served to reaffirm his view of the Jedi as a cult who brainwash their members from infancy.

They were just… impossible to talk to sometimes. They didn’t listen, or even try to understand, they just wanted to bend him into shape. Make him their weapon.

Was it really any wonder that he’d sought out companionship elsewhere? With people who gave a damn about him? While he was always equal parts flattered and uncomfortable when the Chancellor would single him out, he couldn’t deny the rush of affirmation such instances gave him. Saying nothing of Riyo and Padmé, who were actually friends with him. Spent time with him because they liked him, not because they could get something out of him. Nor had they discarded him.

Even when the more intimate aspects of his relationship with Padmé were obviously falling apart, she had made it clear that she still cared, still wanted him in her life just not in that capacity. He wouldn’t say that that hadn’t hurt, and he wouldn’t say that they hadn’t drifted apart for some much-needed space afterwards, but she _hadn’t_ just thrown him out with the rubbish. And Riyo… Riyo was pissed. She hadn’t said it, had stayed calm, but he’d felt the flare of indignation in her Force signature when she’d told him about Obi-Wan.

And somehow, just knowing that someone was angry on his behalf, eased his own temper. He didn’t feel so alone.

Relaxing his jaw, Anakin forced himself to look at Obi-Wan. “Nice to see you got your face back.” He drawled, suddenly realizing how odd it was the Master was the one starting this conversation. He never started these conversations. It was always Anakin, begging like a stray anooba for scraps from his table.

Obi-Wan grimaced at the reminder and rubbed his re-growing beard. “Being a criminal is not easy work.”

“If I’d known, could have helped you.” He didn’t snarl it. He didn’t. “Too bad the Council doesn’t trust me.” Nothing new there though, really. They’d never trusted him. Not from the first moment he stood before them as a displaced slave with no assurances the Jedi would actually help him.

They hadn’t helped his mother.

“Anakin, it was my decision to keep the truth from you.” Obi-Wan kept speaking, but Anakin didn’t hear what else he had to say.

Riyo had been right then. He’d hadn’t just been mistrusted (which as much as it bothered him, he was accustomed too) he’d been used… by the man he’d considered his dearest friend for over a decade.

He felt like the air was being squeezed from his lungs, catching painfully in his throat. “Your decision?”

How could Obi-Wan do this? Didn’t he care at all? Hadn’t he been the one to lecture Anakin on honor? Repeatedly. What did honor matter if you just throw it away the moment it inconveniences you?

“Look, I know I did some questionable things, but I did what I had to do. I hope you can understand that.” Obi-Wan continued, sounding more irritated and exasperated than anything. Just wanting to get this conversation over with.

Not even going to apologize then, for intentionally causing Anakin pain, for using that pain. Nothing. Just justification. Because he was a Jedi Master who therefore _obviously_ had the moral high ground in any dispute. Especially against as poor a Jedi as Anakin was - to have feelings. How disgraceful.

Karking rich is what that was. Hypocrite.

“You lied to me! Aren’t you the one who said that if we sacrifice our code we lose our honor? Or is _using me_ not against your precious code? How many other lies have I been told by the Council? By _you_?” He spat. “And how do you know that you even have the whole truth?”

That was it. Anakin couldn’t take anymore. If he stayed, he’d say something he shouldn’t. So he walked away - in more ways than one.

Rex – whose presence he’d completely forgotten about – fell in beside him. The clone didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. He stood by Anakin.

Out of the corner of his eye, Anakin saw Yoda as he passed. A deep frown carved into his weathered face as the diminutive Master watched the Knight leave, shame saturating his aura.

 _Good_.

At least Obi-Wan had the sense to stay away from him as they gathered in the war room, waiting for the overdue cruiser _Renown_. Something made easier by his clone squad accompaniment, which – without a word to him – had taken an almost defensive formation around him. Clearly keeping whomever they considered “undesirable” away from their General. The action warmed Anakin, loosening the invisible vice around his chest. He felt a rush of affection for his men. They really were the best. Fives seemed particularly irate. Not that they’d said anything to him. Whatever they may or may not have known about his brief confrontation with Obi-Wan, they’d hold their tongues until they were safely back on the _Resolute_. There were too many others here for the increasingly wary 501st to speak their minds. Krell had left quite an imprint.

Feeling frustrated and impatient with the conference in general (damn the fact that it hadn’t even started yet), Anakin turned to look out the window. Just in time to see the _Renown_ drop out of hypserspace.

Finally.

Except… it was coming in way too fast, closer to intercept speed… or ramming speed. He remembered driving a cruiser into a Separatist Control ship over Ryloth.

“Rex… inform Windu that the last straggler has arrived. And try to hail the bridge. They’re coming in hot. We need to know why.”

Minutes that felt like hours later, Tarkin spoke up. “The cruiser has not slowed its pace.”

Anakin sighed. He was looking out the window and could clearly see that. Had Tarkin always been this irritating? Anakin had thought that he’d almost liked him during their escape from the Citadel, but his opinion had soured rather sharply with the man’s role at Ahsoka’s trial – outside of his hands or not. “Have you made contact with their Captain?”

“Z9 says he cannot make contact with anyone.”

Anakin turned back to the window, a warning whispering to him through the Force, like ripples in a pond, but indistinct. “Where is R2 when I need him?” He groused, once again cursing Windu.

“We are scanning a large amount of rhydonium on that ship!” At least Tarkin said something useful this time.

The warning echoed louder. “It’s a bomb!” He realized, eyes widening, seconds before the fireworks started. Explosions breaking up the incoming cruiser in a riot of color. Reaching into the Force, Anakin surrounded his men with a blanket of power. There was no way he could contain an explosion that spectacular, but he could at least provide a buffer against the shockwave. Hopefully it was too far out to serve its intended mission.

Anakin grit his teeth, staying on his feet amid cries of pain and surprise and as clones fell from the observation balcony at the initial hit. Debris followed quickly in the shockwave’s wake, battering the space station, causing alarm klaxons to blare overhead.

“Mayday! Mayday! Space station Valor, this is Colonel Meeber Gascon. Can anybody hear me?”

Anakin turned sharply to the comm unit the transmission was coming from. “We read you Colonel. This is General Skywalker. What’s going on out there?” The destruction was continuing, the other cruisers that had been in formation around _Valor_ taking heavy damage, the station itself still blaring alarms, as personnel rushed to identify and contain the damage.

“Slight change in our mission, General.” Right, he’d been after an encryption code. He had R2! “The droids and I were stowaways on that cruiser.”

Dread curled in his stomach. “Where’s R2?”

“I’m sorry to report he was on that ship when it blew up sir. He just saved all your lives.”

Of course he did. He was R2-kriffing-D2. Best damn astromech in the whole karking galaxy. He’d fight anyone who said otherwise.

Anakin turned from the comm. “I want a salvage team out there now!” He barked his order to the room at large, sincerely not caring about whatever else it was they were doing, and knowing that someone would heed the orders of an irate General.

In no time at all, R2 had been found and repaired, and was wheeling beside him as they exited the shuttle back onto the _Resolute_ , each of his men patting the droid fondly on the dome as they went on their way.

“Where to, General?” Rex asked when they stepped onto the bridge. The Captain’s voice had something in it. Something positive.

Warmth buffeted his shields from the all sides as Anakin looked at the men working. They were… glad to have him back. Sincerely. Not just Riyo had missed him during his time on Zonoma Sekot, and subsequent probation. Affection toward his men rushed through him. Really, what had he ever done to deserve their loyalty and admiration? They kept him going, not the other way around.

“Coruscant.” He threw his second a wry grin. “Some of us are still on probation.”

The Captain’s lips twitched in an aborted smile before he turned and barked orders to the officers manning the bridge.

On the bright side, Anakin thought as he watched the stars stretch with their jump to hyperspace, at least while stuck on Coruscant he would get to see Riyo and Aurora.

* * *

**20 BBY – Coruscant**

“So, how’d seeing Obi-Wan go?” Riyo asked, tipping back to finish off her mead.

Anakin snorted, waving the bartender over for another round. “Honestly? Not great.” The disguised Knight shrugged. “I don’t know what I was expecting.”

Riyo frowned in sympathy. “So no apology then?”

Anakin’s grin was sardonic and self-deprecating. “From the venerable Negotiator? Never.”

The music changed, to the delight of the club goers. Riyo – after a through HoloNet search – had chosen a Pantoran club for their outing tonight. Largely to return the favor of sharing ones culture and history, as Anakin had with her at _Nal Songa_. The timing, as luck would have it, was fortuitous. New regulations standardizing how the galactic Fete Weeks were to be celebrated meant that local traditions had to be celebrated during non-traditional weeks (if they were typically celebrated during one of the three Fete Weeks celebrated by the galaxy at large, that is) to not run afoul of the new restrictions. Which meant that the club – a month early - was playing traditional Pantoran music usually reserved for the holiday dances and celebrations, instead of more the more typical partying.

“Do you know any of these dances?” Anakin asked, watching the revelers.

Riyo was not naive enough to fail to recognize the intentional topic change, but she let it slide with an “I do.” Unable to fight the blush as he eyed her considering, raking her head to her toes.

“Nah, I don’t buy it.” He said in a clear – if mischievous - challenge.

Riyo arched a brow, holding his gaze as she bypassed her fresh bottle of mead and instead snagged his whisky. “Watch and learn.” She threw it back, managing to contain her grimace (if only just), and slammed the glass back onto the bar before sliding out of her stool and sauntering to the dance floor.

Easily absorbed into the group, Riyo fell into well-practiced steps without having to think, and quickly lost herself to the movement. The song changed but she hardly noticed, each dance as familiar to her as the markings on her face. The atmosphere was infectious, the feeling of rightness and belonging unmistakable. Riyo hadn’t realized how much she’d needed this; to disappear amongst her own and just be one of them, instead of being held above as more just because of her office.

Anakin whistling and laughing restarted her mind. While he certainly wasn’t the only bystander cheering the dancers on – the club was loud and boisterous, the music lively and dance strenuous – Riyo would recognize his voice anywhere. She’d forgotten her audience of one. Now she was aware of his eyes on her, watching each step and spin, every roll and sway of her body. Awareness and exhilaration rushed through her. She stayed on the floor until her breathing was labored and her tongue felt melded to the roof of her mouth. Desperately thirsty she returned to the bar and gulped down half her mead.

Anakin slow clapped at her return. “Well you certainly _did_ show me.” He smiled. “You looked like you were having fun.”

“I was.” She panted. “It’s been so long, I’d forgotten how much how I enjoy it.”

He hummed in understanding. “You need more time away from politics.”

While she agreed, the grim reality was that Pantora couldn’t afford it. Though the fighting side of the war was progressing in their favor, the politics were only getting worse. As clearly evidenced by a Pantoran club having to choose between celebrating the New Year Fete Week early, or, bypassing it’s traditions altogether, just because it was located in a core world.

“I’d love to. Believe me. My retirement plans are looking better and better everyday.” She rolled her eyes.

Anakin tilted his head curiously. “You have retirement plans? You’re only twenty-two!”

“Exactly!” She laughed, “That’s how bad it is.”

“So what are these retirement plans you apparently already have flushed out?” He grinned at her, sipping from his glass.

“I’m going to move to the village my father was from. It’s isolated up in the northern mountains - beautiful, quiet. The land has been in my family for generations.” She shrugged.

Anakin watched her keenly, eyes serious where a moment before they’d been laughing. “You’re serious.” It was a statement. He must have thought her at least half joking before.

Riyo nodded. “I am. I haven’t actually been there since I was a little girl, but…” She trailed off, getting absorbed in memories of her grandmother’s voice - singing and kulning - echoing in the mountains. The cold air nipping at her face and lungs, snow glowing in the light from Orto Plutonia, streams of green light dancing across the night sky.

A warm hand on her shoulder drew Riyo from her memories. Warm, understanding azure eyes studied her. She met his gaze, licking her lips, and quietly admitted. “There is a part of me… that belongs to those mountains. They call to me.” She laughed softly and without humor. “I’ve even started dreaming about them.”

Anakin nodded, griping her shoulder in solidarity. They shared a moment of silence before he spoke. “Let’s get out of here. I’m starving.”

Riyo smiled, appreciating both the change in topic and location. Her recollections had left her feeling melancholy, and the Pantoran wanted to leave the rowdy atmosphere behind.

They ended up on a roof, take-away from _Dex’s_ scattered between them, watching the Coruscanti skyline.

“Tell me about your family.” Anakin was reclining back on his elbows, long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle, watching the nearest lane of traffic.

Riyo looked at her knees, her own legs were drawn up, wrapped in her arms, and nibbled on her lip. A habit she’d thought she broken years ago. Clearly all this talk of the past was getting to her. A private person by nature, Riyo tended to deflect such questions, but… it was Anakin… She knew about his past, and he deserved to know about hers.

“My father – as I mentioned – was from a rural village, to my grandparents my mother was the city girl who stole their only son away. They met at University. I only have a few memories of my father; he did in an accident when I was young. After that, my mother and I moved in with her brother and his family - my cousins are basically my brothers, the twats.” Anakin smiled, still looking away, much to her relief. “My mother died last year, she’d been sick for awhile, I’m still close with my Aunt, Uncle, and cousins – obviously – and I inherited the family land from my paternal grandparents when they passed about eleven years ago. It’s been cared for by Property Manager I hired.” She trailed off. It was vague, and probably not what Anakin had been looking for when he’d asked the question, but it was more than she’d offered in a long while. Thankfully, he didn’t push the subject, just nodded along and let it drop.

“What about you?” Riyo fidgeted. She knew he’d been a slave before becoming a Jedi, and had gathered that he was accepted into the Order much later than they typically allowed, but the why and how of that situation had never been clarified. “What did your mother do when you became a Jedi?”

He smiled, not a single trace of humor in the expression. “I don’t know.”

Riyo frowned in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Anakin blew out a gusty breath. “The Jedi who found me – Obi-Wan’s old Master, Qui-Gon Jinn – didn’t have enough collateral to bet against two slaves, just one, and I was the Force-sensitive child they could potentially train, so…” He blinked suddenly over-bright eyes. “We left her… I left her. Qui-Gon promised he’d go back for her, but… he died shortly after that and the _Council_ ” he spat, “wouldn’t let me go back, or send anyone else.

“She could be _dead_ and I wouldn’t know.”

His voice was thick with suppressed tears, the anguish in him so raw Riyo felt her own throat catch with emotion. She blamed that for why she spoke without thinking. “Do you want me to look for her?”

His head snapped toward her, eyes wide with shock. “What?”

Worried she’d overstepped and cursing herself for speaking without thinking, Riyo quickly backtracked. “I won’t if you don’t me to. I won’t! But… if you want… I could look for her.” 

Anakin’s breathing was unsteady, eyes wide still, and glassy with emotion. “You would do that?” It was a broken whisper, the sound barely carrying to her over the sounds of speeders, advertisements, and a PSA from the Chancellor.

Riyo again bit her lip, the full weight of his intensity pressing upon her. “I would.” She confirmed with a nod, pretending that her own eyes weren’t glassy gold reflections of Anakin’s azure. “If that’s what you want.”

Anakin stared at her, struggling to respond. She waited patiently. Eventually, a strangled and desperate “please,” tore from his throat, tear tracks trailing down sallow cheeks.

“What’s her name?” Riyo whispered, afraid to speak louder. He’d never said her given name. Riyo had always had the impression that he held it to himself like a precious jewel he couldn’t bare to part with. Like sharing her name would be to lose her entirely.

“Shmi,” he croaked. “Shmi Skywalker.”

Instinct told Riyo that looking into Anakin’s past on while still on Coruscant was a very bad idea. “Next time I’m on the Rim, I’ll reach out to some old contacts, start asking discrete questions.” She chuckled nervously. “I doubt you want this all over the HoloNet.”

He scoffed, looking away and clearing his throat. “No, I don’t.”

She debated asking him more questions. She could get answers faster if she had more to give whomever she ended up hiring than a name – that may or may not be recorded accurately, if at all – and the planet in question. But that would mean asking him about un-dealt-with trauma, and she couldn’t bring herself to do that. If he offered more information, she’d take it, but she wasn’t going to ask him who had _owned him_ as a child. It would take longer this way, but that was okay.

The fact that he hadn’t searched out information himself – Council be damned - was enough to tell her that as much as he wanted it, Anakin was _terrified_ of the answer, and was unconsciously pushing it back so wouldn’t have to face that fear. He’d probably told himself as a Padawan that he’d do it when he was knighted and Obi-Wan couldn’t stop him. Then the war had started and he’d likely said after the war.

Riyo decided to give him an opening. “Just be aware, it’ll take longer this way.”

Anakin sniffled and inclined his head, looking at her as though considering something. “There used to be a Toydarian in Mos Espa called Watto. He’d be a good place to start.”

A Toydarian? Riyo was admittedly surprised. Toydaria had a long history of being welcoming, and offering humanitarian aid. Their laws were fair and absolutely outlawed slavery.

“That’ll help… Do you want updates, or,”

“No.” He cut her off. “I need to be able to focus when I’m on a battlefield. I trust you to give me the information when you acquire it. I _don’t_ want anyone else finding out, so… yeah.”

“I’ll wait till I’m away for a while, and I’ll be discrete with the inquires. I promise. No one will know.”

“Riyo,” he said after a few minutes of silence, his ungloved hand reaching for hers. “Thank you.”

The earnestness in his voice and expression rendered her speechless. Instead of replying verbally, she brought her other hand over to cover his, holding on tightly with both of hers.

“I’ll pay you back – somehow.”

“Anakin, no.” She protested. “You don’t owe me anything.”

He scoffed and eyed her in mild disbelief. “I do.” He insisted. “First Aurora, now this? Besides, information doesn’t come free in Hutt space.”

Riyo shook her head, trying to figure out how to convince him that it really wasn’t necessary. “I want for nothing, Anakin. Really. Besides, I know Jedi don’t exactly bring in a salary. Your needs are taken care of by the Republic but I know you’re not paid. I have more than enough.” And she did. Jedi weren’t the only ones whose needs tended to be taken care of by the people, but unlike him she made a salary in addition to her expense account. Not to mention her inheritance and the profit she made off leasing some of her ancestral ground to neighbors for grazing rights.

Anakin just kept staring at her, clearly unsatisfied. “Maybe not, but I’m a damn good mechanical engineer. There must be something I could do for you.”

“I have an abundance of acquaintances and colleagues, but… not many friends.” Her ambition had seen to that; Riyo smiled sadly. “You’re my friend. I want to help you.”

Something about her statement bothered him, but she wasn’t sure what. Eventually he let out a frustrated noise that reminded Riyo of a teakettle whistling. “Can I at least make you dinner?”

She blinked in surprise, looked down at the scraps and wrappings from their meal and then back at him.

“Not tonight, obviously.”

“You can cook?” Riyo asked, dumbfounded by the notion.

“My mother made sure of it.” He grinned wryly. “It’s been awhile, but yeah… I can cook - the basics at least.”

Her lips twitched. “Maybe we should cook together.”

“I’m not that bad!”

Riyo tried to properly school her expression into one of faith.

If his glare was anything to go by, she failed.

They both broke and started laughing, not noticing that their hands were still clasped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got to admit, Riyo threw me for a loop here. I had _not_ planned on her looking for Shmi. Still, I think I've managed to wrangle it so it doesn't interfere with what's already written or my plans moving forward.


	7. Equilibrium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan and Anakin go after Satine, later attend an annual Gala at the Senate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously guys, I cannot emphasize enough how much you should **not** get used to such quick updates.

"Remember, you cant reach for what’s in front of you until you let go of what’s behind you.”  
\- Unknown

* * *

**20 BBY – Coruscant**

Riyo Chuchi was too good for this galaxy.

Anakin knew it would take time – potentially a long time as she planned to be cautious – but someone he trusted was going to find his mother.

An itch under his skin told him that if he flew to Tatooine he could get answers in less than a day. Which while likely true would leave ripples. Even if he stood in the Council’s highest of graces – which was laughable - something like this, which so obviously reeked of _attachment_ , would have him in hot water. They already didn’t trust him, already thought he was too emotional and prone to attachment. Looking for his mother could result in Anakin being stripped of his rank as a Jedi Knight, and - for all his issues and complaints – he wasn’t ready to leave.

The only life Anakin had known before the Order was that of a slave. He didn’t know how to go about life without a Master of some sort. Which he _hated_. And the number of people he trusted to help him figure it out was small. So very small.

This is the real reason he wanted to get out from Obi-Wan and be knighted in the first place: his own agency.

Anakin shook his head, dislodging the thoughts. Throughout his ruminations his hands had never stopped working. The little droid was coming along nicely.

Obi-Wan’s agitated Force signature approaching his quarters caught Anakin’s attention. Quirking an eyebrow in surprise, he waited for his old Master to let himself in. The Jedi Master had been wisely avoiding his former Padawan, as said Padawan had no more interest in his banthashit.

The door slid open. “Anakin.”

Anakin grunted but didn’t look up or otherwise acknowledge him.

“Listen, I realize you’re upset with me but I need to borrow your ship.”

For a brief moment Anakin panicked, thinking he knew about Aurora, and then realized he was talking about the _Twilight_.

His shoulders relaxed. “You want to borrow my ship. Why?”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to reply but Anakin cut him off before he could.

“Lie to me. Or tell me anything less than the whole truth and I won’t help you.” He looked up to meet slate gray eyes with a steely gaze, wanting Obi-Wan to realize just how serious he was. “Now, or _ever_ again.” On this, Anakin would not be budged.

Silence as the Jedi Master absorbed what the Knight had said, and it’s implications.

“It’s Satine.” Obi-Wan cleared his throat. “She sent a message, a call for help, but the Senate voted against intervention,”

“Because she’s neutral.”

“Yes.”

Anakin sighed and weighed his options. If Snips was still around he’d send Obi-Wan off with his ship and a few jokes and never consider going with him. Whatever was happening on Mandalore, odds were strong it was worse than they realized, and he wouldn’t bring his Padawan into a situation where the dangers were unknown if he could avoid it. Besides, Obi-Wan was a Jedi Master for a reason; he really could take care of himself – for the most part, anyway. But Ahsoka wasn’t around, and he was bored. Granted he was still on probation, but… what would the Council do about it? It was _Obi-Wan’s_ attachments in question, not his, and he wouldn’t be risking a Padawan, merely mitigating the risk to the Jedi’s Golden Boy.

If it went to the Senate then at the very least, Yoda and Windu were aware, and likely also knew that Obi-Wan would intervene if the bureaucratic body refused to help.

Eh, what’s a little more trouble?

“Okay, I’m going with you.” He stated, rising and wiping his hands on his tunic, smiling when the grease didn’t show on dark brown of his tunic. It wasn’t a fashion choice so much as a way to not get lectured for the umpteenth time about the state of his robes.

Obi-Wan, clearly flabbergasted, answered with a very eloquent “What?”

“I’m going with you. What’s the trouble? It’s got to be bad if she’s asking the Republic for help.”

“Criminals have taken over Mandalore.”

Anakin stopped rummaging through tools and droid parts for his outer robe, decidedly unimpressed. “Seriously? That’s it?”

Aha! Boots, tabards, obi, belt, robe, and… lightsaber. Good to go.

“That’s It? Anakin! It’s not a small thing.” Obi-Wan sighed heavily, clearly frustrated and worried. “In her message, she said that she had _lost_ Mandalore, that her people had been massacred. But she didn’t mention the Separatists, and clone intelligence has no indication of CIS activity anywhere near that system. They do however have evidence of a new crime syndicate – apparently led by the Pykes – targeting Mandalore.”

Anakin paused before he reached the door and frowned. “The Pykes? That doesn’t make sense…”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, exasperated. “They’re opportunists, Anakin, and Mandalore has been made vulnerable by decades of turmoil and inner conflict.”

“They’re spice smugglers and dealers.” Anakin protested. “Trouble for us, sure, ‘cause they make a lot of money in the lower levels, but this… this isn’t their MO. I don’t think they’d risk facing off against Death Watch to take control of a planet that doesn’t mine spice. It’s bad for business.”

The Force was whispering its indistinct warnings. He was right, there was more to this than was immediately obvious. The whispers continued, encouraging him to think. It was true that this wasn’t typical behavior of the Pykes, or the other crime families that they had strong ties to, but… he’d seen something like it before… hadn’t he? Besides, if a crime family wanted to take over a planet, they wouldn’t let the previous ruler live, just period. Unless they _wanted_ her to call for help…

Bait. Satine was bait.

Anakin looked at an impatient Obi-Wan sharply. Oh this was bad, this was very, very bad.

Maybe he was wrong.

“Master,” he said, needing the man’s full attention. “Where have we seen someone take over an illegal operation, grab territory, and use innocent lives as bait? Specifically against you?”

Anakin watched as the older man frowned, his eyes going back and forth between Anakin’s as he tried to push down his worry and think. The Knight saw the moment realization dawned on Obi-Wan.

“Maul? No – it can’t be!”

“Master,” Anakin smirked grimly. “You cut him in half once. So – no offense – but when it comes to Maul dying I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Then the Knight smiled brightly. “Come on, no time to waste! We’ve got a trap to spring and your girlfriend to save.”

A long-suffering “Anakin,” was Obi-Wan’s only response as they took off for the hanger.

* * *

**20 BBY – Mandalore**

Their lets-just-decide-on-a-vague-notion-and-wing-it-from-there plan went off without a hitch – mostly. Anakin stayed hidden, his Force signature masked to the darksiders until the last moment – when Maul was summoning Satine so he could make Obi-Wan watch as he ran her through. So she’d die in his arms.

Anakin had interfered, reaching into the Force to disrupt Maul’s summons. The duchess had still suffered a serious wound, but it wasn’t fatal. The Knight had then engaged Maul and Savage while Obi-Wan grabbed Satine and ran for Bo-Katan and her rebels. Anakin caught up to them as they were boarding the transport the rebel leader had secured, amidst heavy fire.

“I killed Savage, but Maul’s a slippery bastard!” He panted. “On the bright side, he probably hates me as much as he hates you now.”

“Oh good, then you can share in my joy.” Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, deflecting bolts away from Satine’s prone form on the ramp.

“Go back to your Republic,” Bo snapped, interrupting them. “Tell them what has happened here.”

“But that will likely lead to a Republic invasion!” Obi-Wan sounded scandalized. Anakin rolled his eyes.

“Yes, and Maul will die. But Mandalore will survive. We always survive. Now go.”

“Bo,” Satine reached a shaking hand toward the other woman.

Bo’s face crumbled as she looked at her sister’s battered body. “No.” She whispered. “You have to leave, but my place is here. I’m not abandoning my post.”

Obi-Wan scooped Satine back up into his arms. “I’m so sorry.” He said to both women, retreating into the ship as Anakin ran by and launched himself into the pilot’s chair.

Anakin relaxed back after they’d escaped the planet and safely made the jump to hyperspace, frowning as he thought.

“Anakin?”

The Knight snapped his head toward the Jedi Master, who was now sitting in the co-pilot’s chair, frowning at him in a way that Anakin knew meant that that wasn’t the first time he’d called his name.

“How’s Satine?”

Obi-Wan’s frown deepened at his deflection. “She’ll be okay. Could use a soak in a bacta tank but she should come out of this with nothing but a scar. She’s resting now.

“What’s really bothering you?”

Anakin grimaced. “I felt something… Someone. A presence. That’s what distracted Maul.”

“A presence distracted _Maul_ in the middle of a duel?” Obi-Wan was understandably incredulous at the thought.

Anakin nodded. “I think… I think it was the Sith Master. Maul seemed afraid. And not of me. He skulked off. Away from me even though I’d killed his brother.”

“And you’re sure the presence wasn’t Dooku? Or Ventress?”

“Definitely.” Anakin frowned. “But…” He scratched his neck.

Obi-Wan arched a brow, waiting for him to elaborate.

“But it seemed… familiar somehow. Almost like I _should_ recognize it, but it was wrong… twisted.”

Obi-Wan sat back, stroking his beard in consideration. “Masking one’s Force-sensitivity from other Force users isn’t the same as masking a life-signature in the Force…”

Anakin digested that. “You think, whoever this Master is, I’ve _met_ him before?”

Obi-Wan tilted his head, “Perhaps. In which case it is likely that I and other members of the Order have as well.”

“How could we not know?”

Obi-Wan sighed heavily. “I wish I knew. Either way, it’s certainly not good.”

Anakin shifted and scowled. Remembering when he’d been captured by Dooku on Naboo, when the Sith had told him that the war had begun on Naboo – as in the Battle of Naboo, when Padmé was Queen and Anakin had destroyed the control ship. ‘ _The Sith control everything – you just don’t know it!_ ’

And… “Didn’t Dooku tell you once that the Senate was being influenced by a Sith?”

Now it was Obi-Wan’s turn to look uncomfortable. “He did. At the time I believed him to be lying, however… I suppose – for the sake of argument – it _is_ a possibility.”

Anakin opened his mouth to ask if they should tell the Chancellor, and then paused. Remembering Riyo’s aggrieved expression, her concerns over the direction the Senate was heading in. _‘The Chancellor is part of the problem… a good politician, and isn’t above using crises to further his own agenda... exists in an echo chamber.’_

Anakin closed his mouth and shook his head at Obi-Wan’s questioning look. Perhaps this would be best kept as an internal matter.

“Well, it’s something to consider at least.”

Anakin sighed and turned back to the console, desperately wishing to talk to Riyo. “Yeah, something to consider.”

* * *

**20 BBY – Coruscant**

“I expect this kind of recklessness from Skywalker,” Anakin held back a yawn. He could quote Windu’s rants about him these days. “But not you Obi-Wan. As a member of this Council you should know better.”

Yoda hummed. “Know I did, that attempt to rescue the Duchess, Obi-Wan would.” His ears fell. “But realize, a trap it was, I did not. Perhaps for the best, that accompany his old Master, Anakin did.”

“This is true. From the sound of things, it is possible that the Duchess may not have survived had Master Kenobi gone alone.” Master Mundi’s hologram supported.

Windu sat back, his permanent scowl – Anakin could not be convinced that the man had _ever_ smiled - etched on his face. “Still,” he said, suddenly looking devious. “ _They_ can represent the Jedi Order at the Senate’s New Year Gala. It’s the start of the *Fete Week celebrations here on Coruscant.”

* * *

**19 BBY – Coruscant**

It was shit like this, punishing him by making him deal with politicians, which was the reason Anakin was the ”poster boy” of the Jedi Order. Something he knew rubbed certain Councilors wrong, because he wasn’t their ideal of what a Jedi should be. A fact he was well aware of; considering how often he was chided for “behavior unsuitable for a Jedi.” Well… maybe they should think on the second and third order of effects when they do shit like this. It was because they made him deal with the politicians – and by accident of consequence HoloNet news reporters as well – that he was the face of their precious Order in the first place.

Banthashit poodoo is what it was.

Anakin sighed as he looked around the grand venue hall with it’s six story arched windows, crystal chandeliers, and artfully placed, colorful Shimmersilk draping. There was a time in his life when he never would have believed such opulence possible, much less that he would ever stand in the midst of it.

It made his eye twitch.

He briefly wondered how many of the Senators present had slaves. He didn’t believe for a second that they _all_ believed – like a young, idealist Queen once had – slavery to be outlawed. Sure, technically it was – and Anakin wasn’t saying that they were _all_ complicit – but he also knew enough to know that all that really meant was a slight re-branding of their roles.

Anakin shook his head. He needed air. “Troopers” he greeted the clone guards he passed on his way to the balcony.

“Sir,” they responded in chorus.

He’d really much rather be at _79_ ’s with the boys. The sleazy smiles and insinuations, thinly veiled barbs and backdoor deals were making him vaguely nauseous.

This was the Republic his men fought and died for?

He caught sight of lavender hair and smiled, tension bleeding from his shoulders. Riyo Chuchi had arrived – fashionably late.

No, _that_ was the Republic he was fighting for. The one she believed in, and was trying to make a reality.

She had disappeared from view in the next moment, lost in the sea of bodies.

Anakin grabbed a drink off a passing serving droid, downing the concoction before squaring his shoulders and walking back into the hall. He stayed on the fringes, following the wall as he walked and observed.

Anakin stopped prowling when Riyo again came into view. He paused to observe her. Her hair was twisted into an elegant knot, contained by a simple gold headdress. Unlike most of her colleagues – who were swathed in copious amounts of fabric – Riyo wore relatively little. Her dress had clearly been modeled after some militaries’ officer jacket. Dark fabric, long sleeved and as short as what Ahsoka used to wear, perfectly tailored to hug every curve. The lapels extended down to show her clavicle and a mouthwatering amount of cerulean skin, even as the soft curves of her breasts were completely covered, fastened closed (ostensibly at least) by parallel lines of buttons. Her legs were hugged by supple suede, extending above her knees, the boots flat as was her tendency.

It was something he’d always appreciated about her actually. Riyo always wore imminently practical – if finely made - boots. She hadn’t had to change from her Senate outfit on the shuttle when she had gone to pay the Trade Federation’s blockade a diplomatic visit. In fact, he’d never seen her wear any other kind of footwear. Certainly not the ridiculous raised heels Padmé was so fond of. She wouldn’t have to worry about her movement being restricted or falling out of her dress either. Something else that was typical of her. He’d noticed it before but it struck home now that Riyo was always ready to move, to _run_ if need be.

Anakin tilted his head, eyeing the exposed expanse of thigh, wondering if it actually _was_ her skin or if her practical self was wearing opaque nude tights under that little dress.

Looking back to her face, he saw gold eyes fixed on him. Riyo had been watching him watch her, and an enticing indigo blush was spreading across her tattooed cheeks and – he restrained a groan – down the side of her neck.

Anakin didn’t often curse in basic, but _fuck_ he wanted to know what her skin tasted like when heated.

“Anakin, if you keep staring at Senator Amidala like that, people will begin to talk.”

_Senator Amidala? What?_

Anakin startled and looked at Obi-Wan, frowining in confusion.

It wasn’t _Padmé_ he’d been checking out.

Turning back, Anakin didn’t let his vision tunnel on Riyo (like it wanted to), instead paying attention to her surroundings for the first time. And sure enough, just beyond Riyo, and clearly in his line of sight, stood Padmé, also blushing. Apparently thinking – as Obi-Wan had – that it was she Anakin had been eyeing with carnal interest.

Heh, _no_.

No offense to the Nubian Senator but he’d been there and done that - quite literally. And while he’d obviously enjoyed the sex – he’d been nineteen for Force’s sake, and new to partnered physical intimacy, _of course_ he’d enjoyed it – it had still always been somewhat… lacking. As much as he’d thought he was in love with her, they weren’t really compatible, and that had been evident from the beginning.

And now he was wondering how compatible he and Riyo could be.

_No, stop that._

She was a friend, and – like the Pantoran Senator herself - he didn’t have a lot of those, not really. He wouldn’t jeopardize one of the few good things in his life by wanting more than was being offered, like he’d done width Padmé at the beginning of the Clone Wars. Already his friendship with Riyo was stronger, deeper, than his friendship with the Nubian had ever been. He refused to ruin that.

“I think you’re projecting, Obi-Wan.” He threw back, trying to mask the tremor in his voice with teasing arrogance. “After all, you’re the one who can’t keep your eyes off your girlfriend.”

The Master stared deadpanned at the cheekily grinning Knight. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Well, that’s true.” Anakin snickered, gleefully remembering the resounding slap as Satine struck Obi-Wan across the cheek after they were safely back in the Temple’s Halls of Healing. For a pacifist she sure packed quite a punch when she wanted to.

Obi-Wan was now outright glaring.

“Hey,” Anakin defended. “I’m not the one who lied to everyone I know and pretended to be dead, and then forgot to let certain people know the truth or apologize. You’ve only yourself to blame.”

The Knight’s smile was sharp. While he and Obi-Wan had reached a truce of sorts, a new kind of normal, things would never be the same. Whether the Master realized that or not was yet to be seen, but either way, Anakin wouldn’t be forgetting.

And he wouldn’t be blindly trusting of his old friend anymore either.

Anakin used to think that Obi-Wan wouldn’t turn his half-truths, and certain-point-of-view games, against him, thought that they were closer than that. Thought that the Jedi Master respected him more than not.

No matter. It was done now. And Anakin wouldn’t be repeating _those_ mistakes.

Never again.

“Master Jedi!” Senator Organa greeted boisterously. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Obi-Wan’s expression softened into a genuine smile as the Senator from Alderaan approached. Anakin inclined his head in greeting.

“Hiding from scary politicians in the corner, I see?”

“Something like that.” Obi-Wan grinned.

“Ani! Obi!” Anakin’s lips twitched as Obi-Wan winced at the Gungan’s nickname.

“Hey Jar-Jar.” He greeted, allowing his grin to spread.

“Mesa so glad to be seeing yousa!”

“We’re glad to see you as well Jar-Jar.” Obi-Wan assured.

Anakin’s smile was more sincere than his counterpart’s. Though he hadn’t been present – too busy being tortured with Sith Lightning - he had been told that it was Jar-Jar and Boss Lyonie who convinced Padmé to trade for his life, despite losing Grievous in the process, because they were friends. Anakin would always be fond of the Gungan he’d saved from Sabulba all those years ago. No matter how ridiculous he could be sometimes.

“And you, Senator Amidala.” Obi-Wan bowed as she joined their circle.

Anakin looked away sharply, embarrassed that she might think he wanted to rekindle things with them; hoping that he’d catch sight of Riyo and recognizing that the general misunderstanding was probably for the best.

Whispers in the Force urged him to be cautious, to keep the Pantoran hidden. He didn’t know why, probably had something to do with the Sith infiltrator in the Senate, but the details didn’t really matter. It was much too late to pretend Padmé didn’t matter to him (even if it was no longer in the way people believed). If to keep Riyo safe, he had to keep their association hidden, then that was what he’d do.

Anakin tuned out the pointless small talk going on around him. Unlike Obi-Wan, he really wasn’t built for this atmosphere. He found that it drained his already limited patience, and tended to make him think negatively of the government the Jedi Order was beholden to. A serious problem considering he still had to follow orders from both the Jedi High Council and the Senate. He couldn’t really afford to have a crisis of faith amidst a war, and yet…

Anakin sighed. And yet.

“Anakin?”

The Knight in question looked around, noting that Obi-Wan, Senator Organa, and Jar-Jar had dispersed while he was distracted, leaving him alone with Padmé. He sighed.

“Senator.”

She bit her lip. “I… I’ve started seeing someone.”

And she was going out of her way to tell him this, why…? “Okay.”

“It… I…” She fidgeted, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

Ah, right. The staring. That she’d thought had been aimed at her. What a mess.

“Does he treat you well?” Because that’s what mattered, and all he really needed to know.

“Yes.” She blushed and smiled sweetly, averting her gaze.

“Then I wish you all the happiness in the galaxy.”

Padmé frowned in thought, observing him intently now. “You mean that, don’t you?” She said, sounding almost surprised.

Anakin raised an incredulous eyebrow. Had she really thought him petty enough to want her miserable just because they’d broken up? Even if she had been the one to do it, he had recognized – nearly two years ago, thank you – that she was right to do so. He’d clung to her in desperation and the remnants of a child’s dream. It wasn’t real. He knew that they were better as just friends, that they would have - however inadvertently – been the architects of their own destruction otherwise. Instead of being the light in each other’s lives they would have destroyed each other.

This was much, much better. For all parties involved.

“I’m your friend Padmé. Of course I want you to be happy.”

Padmé smiled, gently grasped his elbow and rose up on her toes to place a soft, lingering kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Ani.”

Anakin nodded and watched her walk away before turning to escape back to the balcony. He didn’t make it far.

“Anakin, my boy!”

It took all his self-control not to hang his head and curse. He really didn’t want to deal with the Chancellor right now, especially not when he had a knowing gleam in his eye and a sly grin on his face.

Yet another person who thought he was interested in Padmé. Oh what joy this evening was bringing him.

Would it ever end?

* * *

Riyo looked over in time to see Padmé rise on her toes and kiss Anakin’s cheek. The moment lasted long enough, and seemed private enough, to make her feel like a voyeur.

The memory of Anakin’s heated gaze seared through her. Quickly followed by others. Her body pressed against his on the back of a speeder bike, being engulfed in a hug, the unique scent of him enough make her eyes close in pleasure.

Riyo swallowed reflexively and tried to keep her breathing under control before deciding that she really shouldn’t be surprised by her visceral reaction to his seeming interest. She had never been immune to his appeal. The exhilaration and awareness of her own body that she’d felt when he’d watched her dance was evidence of her own attraction to him. As was the pulse of heat she felt every time she saw powerful thighs gripping a speeder bike. Not to mention the way his stupid face made her mouth go dry, and the way her hands itched to touch the hardened lines of his body.

It was just… he was a Jedi, a literal warrior monk.

She’d assumed from the start that there could never _be_ a potential for more, no matter what she felt. That longing for a man who was raised in a monastery was a moot point.

But that was _before_. Before she’d seen him take her in with obvious interest. The look in his eyes enough to make her think she might be wrong.

Riyo reminded herself that it didn’t mean anything. Experiencing attraction was not the same as planning to do something about it. Her heart sank with the thought.

Of course.

He had sworn his life to the code of the Jedi. It didn’t matter if he found her attractive, physically or otherwise. Nothing would ever happen. She’d been right from the start; it _was_ a moot point.

As far as she was aware the code didn’t require chastity. Physical “relations” _were_ allowed so long as it was just taking care of a biological urge. But anything more, anything involving feelings for the bedmate was strictly forbidden.

And… Riyo couldn’t do that. Not with Anakin. She already cared too much for a meaningless dalliance to be possible. It would mean something for her, and would kill her if he couldn’t say the same.

“Senator Chuchi!” Riyo grimaced, it had to be Orn Free Ta.

Plastering a fake smile on her face, she turned to greet the Twi’lek.

Anakin had disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Fete Week:  
> There are three Fete Weeks (or Festival Weeks) recognized in the Galactic Standard Calendar.  
>  **The New Year Fete Week** was the first five days of the new year as determined by the Galactic Standard Calendar, but _before_ the first month. (Because that makes sense)  
>  **The Festival of Life** , which originated in the Core Worlds, consisted of five days between the sixth and seventh months. It was marked by parties, get-togethers, and gift-giving.  
>  **The Festival of Stars** was another celebratory week between the ninth and tenth months of the year that celebrated interstellar space travel. Many beings took vacations to other planets to mark this occasion.


	8. For Fives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin has dinner with Riyo and decides how to move forward in the aftermath of Ringo Vinda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so _Star Wars_ is inconsistent on the whole "can you send/receive a transmission in hyperspace" thing. In this fic/universe I'm going with **no**. I've implied this in earlier chapters but I decided to state it outright to avoid any confusion. So there ya go.
> 
> Also, this chapter did not want to come out... It was like having Writer's Constipation. No bueno.

“No one saves us but ourselves. No one can, and no one may. We ourselves must walk the path.”  
\- Buddha

* * *

**19 BBY – Coruscant**

“I’m not crazy!” Fives cried.

Well… at least he seemed to realize he was acting irrational. That was already better than Tup.

“Please, please – just, just – hear what I have to say.”

“We’re here to help you Fives, just come with us.” Anakin tried to urge.

As Shaak Ti had warned him, Fives was not acting like himself, but Anakin couldn’t believe the trooper he’d known was gone. And unlike the Togurta Master he wasn’t convinced the inhibitor was entirely to blame. He needed to get Fives back to the Halls of Healing, before the troopers assigned to Coruscant’s guard could catch up and take him to a detention center. “Let us take you back to the Temple.”

A ray shield activated, trapping Anakin and Rex. “No!” The Knight yelled in frustration.

Fives stumbled into view. “I just need you to listen to me, please!”

“I’m not really sure we have any other choice!” Anakin groused, frustrated with his trooper’s lack of trust, and unable to shake the feeling of time slipping away from him like water in cupped hands.

“I was framed, because I know the truth! The truth about a plot, a massive deception.”

“By whom?” Rex asked the question they were both wondering.

“Well, there’s a sinister plot in the works against the Jedi! I have proof of it, I can prove that everything I know is true beyond the shadow of a doubt!”

Anakin remembered electricity and Dooku’s voice snarling, _‘the Sith control everything – you just don’t know it!’_

“Show me the evidence!” Anakin insisted, disturbed by the recollection and Fives erratic behavior. He needed answers – fast.

“The evidence, is,” The ARC trooper closed his eyes and touched his head, acting almost as though he couldn’t even remember the words. “In here, it’s – it’s in here, it’s in all of us, every clone!” He was wild-eyed, stumbling, acting like a spooked nerf.

“What is it?” Rex asked, worry and desperation wafting off him in waves.

“Organic chips, built into our genetic code to make us do whatever someone wants, even kill the Jedi! It’s all in here!” Anakin sucked in a breath at the accusation. Maybe it was true, maybe it wasn’t. He couldn’t say either way, the Force was veiled, frustratingly silent, giving its son no answers.

He needed to get Fives to the Jedi healers; they’d be able to ascertain what was wrong - perhaps even help prove or disprove Fives’ theory. “Let’s just get you some help first, then we can review everything.” He said, trying to calm the clone. “You’ll be okay, Fives. We’ll sort this out.”

“ _Ah, you don’t believe me_!” Fives screamed, his agitation boiling over. He seemed… deranged, or… drugged. Not outright violent, definitely different from Tup. And unlike most Jedi Anakin had actually brushed up against Jango Fett – if not as close as Obi-Wan had – and he didn’t believe this erratic behavior was due to the removal of the inhibitor chip. Fett had been aggressive, yes, but calculating. _Slick_ had reminded him more of Fett than Fives ever had – even now.

Anakin stayed silent as he contemplated, allowing Rex a turn to soothe his brother. “Fives, we _are_ listening to you. We only want to help.”

“How do I know you’re not tricking me?” Force, he was paranoid. “How do I know it wont be a trap? The Chancellor tried to kill me! I promise you that!”

That brought Anakin up short. He blinked, disbelief and the icy fingers of fear clenching at his insides. “The Chancellor?”

Again he heard Dooku, _‘the Sith control everything…!’_

And Riyo, _‘…exists in an echo chamber, only listening only to his closest advisors.’_

“He’s in on it!” Fives insisted stridently. “I don’t know to what extent, but I _know_ he orchestrated much of this. He told me in the medical bay!”

_What?_ Was that true… or a delusion?

“He told you… when you tried to assassinate him?” Anakin asked slowly. None of this was making sense.

Besides, no matter what Fives may have heard – or though he heard – attacking the Chancellor would only end one way if the guard caught up to them before he could get Fives safely sequestered in the Temple. “You have gone too far Fives, the Chancellor is incapable of what you say.” The Knight protested, his voice betraying the tendril of doubt he felt.

He still didn’t believe the Chancellor could be at fault, but perhaps the man was being manipulated by one of his advisors. It would be a perfect position for a Sith. Influential, but hidden; not someone the Jedi would look at too closely. It would mesh with Riyo’s observations.

Fives latched onto his General’s audible doubt; hope finally shining in his eyes. “He is! I swear to you General, you have no idea-“

“Stand down soldier! Stand down! Get on your knees!”

_Kriff_ , Shock Troopers from Coruscant’s guard. This was spiraling out of control. How did they find him so fast? Probes?

“No, no, no! Stay back!”

_Kriff_. He thought again. Fives had already been agitated, only just showing preliminary signs of trust. This wouldn’t end well.

“Don’t do it soldier, don’t do it!”

Anakin closed his eyes in dread. _No Fives, don’t._

“Get away from me!” Fives lunged for Rex’s abandoned pistols.

“Fives, no!” The Captain called, reaching as though he could penetrate the shield and stop what was happening.

Too late.

One of the Shock Troopers fired, Fives fell. A distressed Rex continued to call for Fives, his brother’s name a mantra on his lips as Anakin bit back the grief at the senseless loss.

“Get this ray shield off!” He ordered, swallowing bile.

One of the red painted troopers fired at the generator, disabling the field.

Rex lurched forward and fell to his knees, gathering the fallen trooper close. “Fives, brother.” He murmured to the body in his arms, before turning to the newcomers. “Call for help, we need a medic!”

“Rex.”

Anakin closed his eyes at the broken sound of Fives’ voice, turning his face away from the scene to try and give them what little privacy he could. He could feel the trooper’s life ebbing away in the Force. Tears stung at his eyelids but didn’t fall as he consigned himself to feeling the death of another friend.

“Fives.” The Captain sounded close to tears.

“This, it’s… bigger than any of us.” Fives rasped. “Than anything I could have imagined. I never meant to… I only wanted to do my duty.”

“Brother, Fives. Stay with me, Fives. Fives!” Anakin swallowed at Rex’s desperate pleading, the other troopers lowering their weapons in respect.

“The mission… the nightmares… they’re… finally … over…” Anakin frowned. Shared Nightmares? That was new information. He wondered if it was tied to the inhibitor chips somehow. A mission?

_‘Good soldiers follow orders... Kill the Jedi.’_

_‘The Sith control everything,’_

_‘…I know the truth!’_

Ice trickled down Anakin’s spine.

If Rex cared about the nightmares he didn’t show it, cradling his brother close. “Fives, no. Fives, come on, Fives. Don’t go, stay with me, stay with me Fives. Fives! Don’t go. No. Oh, no.”

* * *

“Anakin?” Riyo called, as she crested the ramp that led from Aurora’s cargo hold to the living level. She knew he was here already (the exterior ramp had been left open and then closed as soon as she was inside), and didn’t want to intrude. She suspected that Anakin may actually sleep here instead of his Temple quarters whenever he could get away with it, which made the ship more home than anything else most likely.

“Kitchen!” He called back.

Riyo smiled and strode forward, shifting the bag of groceries in her arms as she did. Despite feeling a mild guilt that she hadnt started looking for Shmi yet, Riyo was looking forward to spending the evening with Anakin. Time with him always seemed to help, and it had been a difficult few weeks. The Republic was low on money and the banks were being unusually techy. War rationing was already in affect, with public services cut to the bone to support the continuing conflict. If things continued as they were, soon even the military would feel the effects.

Riyo’s stress headache was now a constant companion. One she’d gladly rid herself of.

Catching sight of Anakin, Riyo froze, heat flooding her body. He was wearing what must be a linen undertunic, the material – a lighter shade than he typically wore – was gauzy and translucent, teasing at the skin beneath it. His shoulder blades clearly defined. She swallowed thickly, suddenly unable to speak.

“Hey,” he turned to greet her with a smile.

Riyo unstuck her mouth, knowing her cheeks were obviously flushed. “Hey.”

She reassured herself that it could be much worse – at least the tunic was closed - even as her eyes traced the deep V of its neckline.

“I thought I was cooking for you.” He teased, jerking his chin toward her bag of groceries.

Riyo gave a shaky smile. “Nope. We’re cooking together. Remember?”

“Oh is that what we agreed on?”’

Her smile was more confident now that they were treading more familiar ground. “It is.”

“Whatever you say, Milady.” Anakin’s scoff was undermined the mirth dancing in his azure eyes.

She arched a brow at him. “Really? Hmm… Might have to take advantage of that.”

This time his scoff was more sincere and accompanied by a hard eye roll as he turned back toward the kitchen.

“Oh,” Riyo’s eyes widened as she caught sight of his cybernetic arm for the first time.

He glanced over his shoulder brow furrowed and followed her gaze down to his exposed hand. “Oh,” he unconsciously mimicked. “Yeah, that.” He flexed the fingers, translucent matte black plasisteel over a skeleton of durasteel gold, the mechanics and wires hidden so cleverly she couldn’t perceive them; despite knowing they had to be there.

Now thoroughly distracted, Riyo slid the bag of groceries onto the island without looking away from his prosthetic limb. “May I?” She asked, stepping forward.

He hummed an affirmative and held the arm out toward her.

Gingerly, she took the hand in both of hers, curious fingers skimming over the smooth, body-warm surface. She pressed her thumbs into the palm, fascinated as the fingers curled involuntarily, just like a flash hand would. Next she tested the movement of the wrist, and followed the line the gold up, pushing the sleeve up his forearm as she traveled until her fingers transitioned from thick plasisteel to smooth skin just a few inches below his elbow.

“I didn’t realize.” She murmured, reversing the movement. “Can you feel that?”

“Somewhat. I opted against synthskin so I can’t feel texture and there is no pain response, but the plating is pressure sensitive and there are heat sensors as well. The gold inlay on the durasteel is excellent for sending electrostatic impulses – which singles the neural-chem interface which is why it behaves so naturally… in a way, it is as if skin is damaged, but nothing else. Theoretically, I could make a prosthetic with a similar inlay on the casing and it would allow me to better differentiate between subtle textures. I just haven’t seen the point.” He shrugged.

“Well… we are in a war, so I can understand your reticence. Still… I bet that took some getting used to.” She still hadn’t released his hand, but was now looking between it and his eyes.

“Yeah. I didn’t see the point in adding something that could cause a pain response, but I wanted the plating because without it I found I didn’t know my own strength.” There was something sardonic and self-deprecating in the smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

She nodded. “Honestly, I thought you wore the glove because you’d been badly burned.”

“Reasonable, but no. It’s my preferred hand for lightsaber work, and without skin of some kind I need the glove for traction. Otherwise it slips right out of my hand, no matter how hard I grip. I actually damaged a previous hilt that way.”

Riyo’s eyes rounded. Admittedly she didn’t know much about lightsabers, but she was given to understand that they were incredibly sturdy. So damaging one was no mean feat - especially if it was an accident.

Riyo cast her mind back over the years of their acquaintance, trying to remember if she’d ever seen him without the omnipresent glove. “How did you lose the arm?”

He grimaced, his countenance darkening. “Dooku. At the first Battle of Geonosis.”

“You were there?” She gasped, knowing that hundreds of Jedi had lost their lives that day, and realizing that he may have gotten off easy - as much as a literal maiming could ever be considered ‘getting off easy.’ At least he was alive.

“I was. Obi-Wan had gotten himself caught and Padmé and I thought that the Jedi wouldn’t get to him in time and that we could save him. Just ended up being tied to execution pillars along with him.”

“Definitely a story I’ve never heard before.” And a very interesting one, it seemed. His closeness with the Senator from Naboo was starting to make more sense. Clearly they had endured trials together.

“Well… we were chained up in arena. Our ‘execution’ was public for the Geonosisan’s entertainment. They released an acklay, a reek, and a nexu - one for each of us. When we managed to clear that scrape the battle droids were deployed, then the Order arrived and then the clones, and the Clone Wars began.”

Riyo frowned. Normally Anakin would embellish a tale like that, draw her in with his dynamic storytelling and flare for drama. His glossing over such an account was both unusual and highly suspect. After a moments thought she decided against pushing the issue. Whatever the problem was it would come out eventually.

Attempting to brush off her concern Riyo forced a smile. “So what are we making?”

They quickly fell into a comfortable rhythm. Moving fluidly around each other as they each prepared old favorites from home. Laughing during a small skirmish that saw flour coating the kitchen, her sweet honey glaze enticingly spread across his cheek - a problem as she was far, _far_ too tempted to lick it off - and his spiced cream sauce swiped down her nose. Which disappeared when he wiped it with a napkin and followed the gesture with an unthinking kiss to the bridge of her nose. It could be her imagination but as he turned away she thought she saw a small pink flush across his cheeks.

Mix-matched meal completed, they plated their shares and went to the nest, relaxing in the comfortable environment as they ate, conversation trailing to nothing as Anakin’s brow perpetually furrowed, teeth nibbling on his lips.

“All right, what’s bothering you?” Riyo finally asked, looking away from the nest’s viewports to the Knight lounging beside her.

Anakin looked up surprised from where he’d been plucking at the blankets. He blinked, clearly realigning his thought processes. Eventually giving a strained smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s nothing.”

Riyo sighed and looked away, disappointed. He’d been distant and distracted all evening; now he was avoiding her questions. “Aren’t we past such platitudes, Master Jedi?”

Anakin winced at the resurrection of his honorific. “I – I’m sorry Riyo.” He looked up at her through honeyed lashed with apologetic eyes.

She waited, feeling bad for having taken her own frustrations out on him – especially considering how much stress he was under already - but not wanting to give him an out just yet. Something had been bothering him all evening. She’d waited for him to volunteer the information, but no longer. She would have her answers.

He sighed, “One of my soldiers killed Master Tiplar, unprovoked, and then one of his brothers…” Anakin trailed off, shaking his head. “I don’t know what to do. What to think.”

“Tell me,” Riyo encouraged, reaching out to thread his fingers with her own.

Anakin frowned, and told her. He explained about Tup having been missing for five days, his unusual behavior upon his return, how the trooper seemed to slip in and out of psychosis. How – when out of it – he couldn’t remember what he had said or done. Haltingly, he’d shared Tup’s frightening mantras: _Good soldiers follow orders_ , and _Kill the Jedi_.

She’d sucked in a sharp, horrified breath at that. As far as Riyo knew, troopers were incredibly loyal, to the Republic they served and the Jedi they followed. What he was saying was near inconceivable.

He concluded with the Council’s belief that Tup had been brainwashed by Separatists.

His hesitation at the last did not go unnoticed.

“But you don’t believe that.”

“I don’t know what to believe.” Anakin rubbed his brow. “I sent Fives – one of my most trusted ARC Troopers – with Tup to Kamino. And then he went off. Shaak Ti said that he didn’t believe Nala Se’s conclusions, that he investigated himself. It’s not really clear what exactly happened after that.”

Anakin licked his lips. “He was accused of attempting to assassinate the Chancellor, but Fives said that he’d uncovered a plot against the Jedi, that the Chancellor was a part of it, and that he was being framed.”

Riyo was cold with mounting horror. “Did he say more?” She rasped.

“Yeah. He said that all the clones had chips in their brains that could be used to control them,”

“Inhibitor chips,” she breathed.

He looked at her in surprise. “Yes. Apparently the Council has known such chips were in the clones since the beginning but said they’re aimed at controlling aggression and don’t give out specific orders.”

Riyo swallowed. “Well… I suppose forcing them to kill the Jedi could count as ‘controlling aggression’.”

He cut her a sharp look. “Not funny.”

“I’m not laughing, Anakin. I know about the inhibitor chips because I make a point to attend war briefings in person instead of relying on the transcript. In no small part because the transcripts tend to be edited. There is at _least_ one active conspiracy within the Republic right now, and the tide of public opinion is turning against the Jedi. The political environment has become charged, it’s incredibly volatile.”

Riyo fidgeted, agitated, confused, and worried. “Anakin… you said Fives was one of your most trusted, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Then… even if you don’t believe there is a conspiracy, maybe – out of respect for Fives – you should investigate his claims yourself anyway. Quietly. I’m sure your troopers would appreciate the show of solidarity, if nothing else. I can’t imagine any of this sits easy with them, or that they’ll be satisfied with the Council’s word on it.”

He mulled over her words and his recollections, tilting his head as he considered. “I’ll talk to Rex about it and see what he thinks.”

Riyo nodded and breathed out a sigh of relief. It was all she could ask for. Hopefully, it would be enough.

* * *

“Rex,” Anakin started, not feeling nearly as confident as he should. The clone Captain looked up at him, snapping to attention.

“Sir?”

Anakin waved a hand. “No need Rex, I’m sorry to impose on your free time, but I wanted to talk to you…” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably.

Rex relaxed, tilting his head curiously as he waited for Anakin to continue.

“The Council has ruled what happened to Tup as Separatist sabotage/brainwashing.”

“And Fives sir?”

Anakin sighed. “They think what happened with Fives was the result of having his implant removed… but I’m not convinced. I doubt I have to remind you of anything he said there at the end.”

Rex grimaced, his expression tinged with sorrow.

“Look… it hasn’t been approved by the Council, or the Senate, but I was hoping you and maybe some of the others would be willing to help me look into it on the sly. Maybe remove the chip from a volunteer, monitor the trooper in question and try to analyze the chip ourselves. I can reprogram a meddroid for that, they’ve got decent hardware for it…” Anakin trailed off, certain his eyes were playing tricks on him and Rex wasn’t… tearing up. No.

“You would do that for us, sir?”

Ankain frowned. He’d do anything for the _vod_. Didn’t they know that? “Of course, Rex. I want to know what happened to Tup and Fives as much as the rest of you do.”

Rex sniffed and nodded before seeming to recognize another beachhead to fight. “Not to mention, if Fives _is_ right about there being a conspiracy against the Jedi, it really is in your best interest to figure it out. Especially if the Council isn’t going to investigate further.”

Huh. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“You don’t believe there really is a conspiracy.” It was a statement.

Anakin cringed. He’d been dreading that. “I find it hard to believe, I’ll admit that. But I trust Fives, and I’m willing to keep an open mind. It… wouldn’t be the first time I was wrong about something.”

Rex studied him closely, eventually giving a definitive nod. “Alright. When do we start?”

Anakin exhaled in relief. This question he was prepared for. “Next time we’re in hyperspace.” Because they would be comm dark and have plenty of time to edit security footage and fudge records. None of this needed explanation. Rex understood the benefits of the lack of oversight inherent in hyperspace travel.

Rex nodded. “I don’t think we’ll be short on volunteers, sir.”

“I don’t doubt it. But I think we should start with one, make it easier on the medics to monitor for potential repercussions from the chips removal. One step at a time, Captain, we’ll figure it out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://postimages.org/)
> 
> Because that is the top I was thinking about during the cooking on Aurora scene, and because Hayden has a beautiful smile. I'm sorry for the delay. Hopefully the next update will be out in a speedier fashion. Also, we will be getting into the meat of it all soon. I can't wait!

**Author's Note:**

> **Timeline Shenanigans:**
> 
> **22 BBY** – Clone Wars start at the First Battle of Geonosis,  
> Christophsis (hello, Ahsoka), Teth, Ryloth, Abregado, Mimban, Rishi Moon, Skirmish at Vanquor, Quell, etc  
>  **Skirmish on Orto Plutonia** (‘sup Riyo)
> 
>  **21 BBY** – Grange, Blue Shadow Virus arc, Fleucia (round 1), Stolen Holocron arc, more Feleucia (bye bye medical station), Malastare (IT’S A ZILLO BEAST aahhhhhh!), Cato Neimoidia, Second Battle of Geonosis, Selucami, first Satine Arc, Sabotage of the Endurance (BOBA!), Florum pt 2, Mandalorian Black Market conspiracy, Alderaan Refugee Conference, Kamino,  
>  **Blockade of Pantora,  
>  Senate Hostage Crisis,** Bombing of Coruscant’s central power grid
> 
>  **20 BBY** – Sullest, Mortis, Capture of Even Piell (Echo lives I dont care what anyone says), Felucia (again – Ahsoka gets kidnapped), Mon Cala, rescue of Adi Gallia,  
>  **Battle of Umbara/*Bombing of Jedi Temple**  
>  *this is roughly a year before the Temple Bombing happened in Canon, Zygeria Arc, Battle at Carlac, Rako Hardeen Arc, Safe Cargo objective, motho Minor, Raydonia, Abafar, Cardia incident
> 
>  **19 BBY** – Kardoa, Mygeeto, Lokori, escape from Geonosis Battle of Coruscant, siege of Mandalore, Outer Rim Sieges: Utapau, Cato Neimoidia, Kadhyyyk, Mygeeto, Saleucami, Felucia, Kaller, Order 66 
> 
> This list is not complete, merely meant to give some context to the changes I’ve made.


End file.
